THE  STORY  OF  THE 
REVOLUTION 


GEORGE   WASHINGTON. 

it  is  kno-wn  as  the  "  Gibbs-Channing  portrait."     It  was  fainted  in  7795  by  Gilbert  Stuart,  and  is  now  owned  by  Mr.  S. 
P.  A-very,  by  -whose  kind  permission  it  is  here  reproduced. 


, 

THE  STORY  OF  THE 
REVOLUTION 


BY 

HENRY    CABOT   LODGE 


VOLUME    I 


NEW   YORK 
CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 


COPYRIGHT,  1898,  BY 
CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S   SONS 


HENRY  MORSE  STEFHCK* 


TROW   DIRECTORY 

INTlNG  AND  BOOKBINDING   COMPANY 
NEW   YORK 


TO 

THE  ARMY   AND   NAVY   OF   THE    UNITES"  STATES, 

VICTORS   OF 

MANILA,    SANTIAGO   AND   PORTO   RICO, 

WORTHY    SUCCESSORS    OF    THE    SOLDIERS    AND    SAILORS 
WHO    UNDER   THE   LEAD    OF   GEORGE   WASHINGTON 

WON   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE, 

THIS    STORY    OF    THE    REVOLUTION 

IS   DEDICATED. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER   I. 
THE  FIRST  STEP.        .....  x 

CHAPTER   II. 
THE  FIRST  BLOW 21- 

CHAPTER   III. 
THE  SECOND  CONGRESS       ••••••..      53 

CHAPTER  IV. 
THE  REPLY  TO  LORD  SANDWICH  »n 


CHAPTER   V. 
THE  SIEGE  OF  BOSTON 


97 


CHAPTER   VI. 

THE  SPREAD  OF  REVOLUTION      ....  u8 

CHAPTER   VII. 
INDEPENDENCE I^ 

CHAPTER   VIII. 
THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  HUDSON    ....  jSo 


viii  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER    IX. 
TRENTON  AND  PRINCETON   .  ...     202 

CHAPTER   X. 

THE  BURGOYNE  CAMPAIGN 

CHAPTER    XI. 

THE  RESULTS  OF  SARATOGA        .         .  .     263 

CHAPTER    XII. 
FABIUS.  .279 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON    ......  Frontispiece 

in  1795,  by  Gilbert  Stuart. 


CARPENTERS'  HALL,  PHILADELPHIA       .... 

JOHN    JAY                     ......... 

PAGE 

3 
4 

Engraved,  in  1783,  from  a  pencil  drawing  by  Du  Simitiere,  made  in  7779. 

JOHN    ADAMS             ......... 

From  a  painting  by  Klyth,  ijoj. 

SAMUEL    ADAMS 

4 
"5 

F.n graved  from  the  portrait  painted  by  Copley,  in  1773. 

PEYTON    RANDOLPH,    OF    VIRGINIA,    THE    FIRST     PRESIDENT    OF    THE 

CONTINENTAL    CONGRESS      .......          8 

From  a  painting  by  C.   W.  Peale,  1774. 

RICHARD    HENRY    LEE,    OF    VIRGINIA         ......          8 

Painting  by  C.  IV.  Peale,  1791. 

GEORGE  WASHINGTON  AT  THE  AGE  OF  FORTY   ....    9 

Painted  by  Charles  IVillson  Peale,  1772. 

THE     ASSEMBLY     ROOM,     CARPENTERS'     HALL,     WHERE     THE    CONTI 
NENTAL    CONGRESS    FIRST    MET II 

GENERAL    JOHN    SULLIVAN 17 

From  the  original  pencil-sketch  made  by  yohn  Trumbull,  at  Exeter,  N.  H.,  in  1790. 

THE    ARTICLES    OF    ASSOCIATION     AND    RESOLUTIONS    ADOPTED     BY 

THE    FIRST    CONGRESS  AT   PHILADELPHIA,  OCTOBER   2O,    1774       19 

Reproduced,  by  permission,  from  the  original  document,  notv  in  the  Lenox  Library. 

JOHN    DICKINSON,    OF    PENNSYLVANIA 2O 

From  a  painting  by  C.  IV.  Peale,  1791. 

CONCORD    BRIDGE    AT    THE    PRESENT    TIME      .             .             .  .  .27 

THE    OLD    BUCKMAN    TAVERN,    BUILT     1690      .             .             .  .  -3° 

THE    OLD    NORTH    CHURCH .       31 


x  LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

PAUL    REVERE    ROUSING    THE    INHABITANTS    ALONG    THE    ROAD    TO 

LEXINGTON 33 

PAUL    REVERE,    BY    ST.    MEMIN,    1804        .  34 

MAJOR  PITCAIRN'S  PISTOLS  .  .  .     35 

HARRINGTON    HOUSE,    LEXINGTON  ...  .       36 

THE    FIGHT    ON    LEXINGTON    COMMON,    APRIL    19,    1775    •  -  -37 

GENERAL    VIEW    OF    LEXINGTON    COMMON    AT    THE    PRESENT    TIME       39 
LORD    PERCY  .  .40 

From  a  print  lent  by  IT.  C.  Crane. 

BARRETT    HOUSE,    NEAR    CONCORD  ......       42 

THE    FIGHT    AT    CONCORD    BRIDGE,    APRIL    19,    1775  .  .  -43 

FLAG     CARRIED     BY     THE      BEDFORD      MILITIA      COMPANY     AT     CON 
CORD    BRIDGE 45 

WRIGHT    TAVERN,    CONCORD,    AT    THE    PRESENT    TIME     .  .  .46 

RECEIPT     SIGNED    BY    THE    MINUTE    MEN    OF    IPSWICH,    MASS.,    WHO 

MARCHED    ON    THE    ALARM,    APRIL    19,     1775  .  .  -47 

THE    RETREAT    FROM    CONCORD        .......       48 

GRAVE    OF    BRITISH    SOLDIERS,    NEAR    THE    BRIDGE    AT    CONCORD      .       50 
THE    MINUTE    MAN    AT    CONCORD    BRIDGE          .  .  .  .  -51 

Daniel  C.  French,  Sculptor. 

JOHN    HANCOCK 55 

F.ngraved/rom  the  portrait  painted  by  Copley  in  1774. 

THE      RUINS     OF     TICONDEROGA,     LOOKING     NORTHWEST,     SHOWING 

THE    REMAINS    OF    THE    BASTION    AND    BARRACKS  .  .       60 

THE    CAPTURE    OF    TICONDEROGA    BY    ETHAN    ALLEN        .  .  .        6l 

A     NEAR    VIEW    OF    THE    RUINS    OF    THE     OFFICERS'    QUARTERS     AT 

TICONDEROGA 64 

THE    BUNKER    HILL    INTRENCHING    PARTY 75 

PRESCOTT    ON    THE    PARAPET    AT    BUNKER    HILL      .             .             .              -79 
THE    BATTLE    OF    BUNKER    HILL 85 

GENERAL    WILLIAM    HOWE        ........       87 

From  an  engraving  after  the  portrait  by  Dodd,  May  13,  1786. 

JOSEPH    WARREN,    KILLED    AT    BUNKER    HILL  .  .  .  .89 

From  a  portrait  painted  by  Copley  in  1^4. 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS  xi 


j  PAGE 

A      GLIMPSE      OF     BUNKER      HILL      MONUMENT      FROM      COPp's     HILL 

CEMETERY  .........       92 

WASHINGTON    TAKING    COMMAND    OF    THE    ARMY     .  .  .  -99 

VICINITY    OF    THE    WASHINGTON    ELM,    CAMBRIDGE,    AT    THE    PRES 

ENT    TIME  .........     101 

A    PROCLAMATION    BY    KING    GEORGE    III.,  AUGUST,    1775  •  •     IO5 

Reproduced  from    one    of   the  original    broadsides  in    Dr.  Emmet's  collection   now   in   the  Lenox 
Library. 

CAPE    DIAMOND    AND    THE    CITADEL,    QUEBEC  .  .  .  .107 

TABLET     ON     THE     ROCKS     OF     CAPE     DIAMOND     BEARING     THE     IN 

SCRIPTION    "  MONTGOMERY    FELL,    DEC'R    31,    1775"       .  .     Io8 

THE      MONUMENT      TO     MONTGOMERY,     ST.     PAUL'S     CHURCH,     NEW 

YORK    CITY  .........     109 

Erected  by  the  order  of  Congress,  January  23,  1776. 

THE    ATTACK    ON    QUEBEC       .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .Ill 

THE     DESTRUCTION     OF     FALMOUTH,     NOW      THE     CITY     OF     PORT 

LAND,    ME.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .119 

In  October,  7775,  by  a  fleet  under  C  aft  a  in  Mo-watt. 

GENERAL    WILLIAM    MOULTRIE  .  .  .  .  .  .  .127 

From  the  painting  by  John   Trnmbull,  1791. 

OLD  ST.  MICHAEL'S  CHURCH,  CHARLESTON,  s.  c.          .         .         .   128 

THE    DEFENCE    OF    FORT    SULLIVAN,    JUNE    28,     1776  .  .  .     131 

FORT    MOULTRIE,    AT    THE    PRESENT    DAY          .....     133 

WASHINGTON  SHOWING  THE  CAMP  AT  CAMBRIDGE  TO  THE  COM 
MITTEE,  CONSISTING  OF  FRANKLIN,  LYNCH,  AND  HARRISON, 
APPOINTED  BY  CONGRESS  .......  147 

INDEPENDENCE    HALL,  PHILADELPHIA,  CHESTNUT    STREET    FRONT        150 

THOMAS    PAINE        ..........     155 

From  fainting  by  C.  IV.  Peale,  1783. 

ROGER    SHERMAN  .........     157 

From  the  painting  by  Ralph  Earle,  1787. 

ROBERT    MORRIS     ..........     159 

From  a  painting  by  Edward  Savage,  1790. 

THOMAS    JEFFERSON         .........     l6l 

From  the  painting  by  Charles  IVillson  Peale,  1791. 
VIEW    OF    INDEPENDENCE    HALL    FROM    THE    PARK    SIDE  .  .     163 


xii  LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

STAIRWAY    IN    INDEPENDENCE    HALL        ......     164 

FAC-SIMILE  OF  A  PART  OF  THE  ROUGH  DRAFT  OF  THE  DECLAR 
ATION  OF  INDEPENDENCE  .......  165 

From  an  artotype  by  E.  Bierstadt  of  the  original  in  the  Department  of  State,  at  Washington,  D.  C. 

ROOM     IN      INDEPENDENCE      HALL     IN     WHICH      THE      DECLARATION 

WAS    SIGNED          .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .167 

READING  THE  DECLARATION  OF  INDEPENDENCE  TO  THE  TROOPS 
IN  NEW  YORK,  ASSEMBLED  ON  THE  COMMON,  NOW  CITY 
HALL  PARK,  OLD  ST.  PAUL'S  IN  THE  BACKGROUND  .  .  169 

FROM    THE    RESOLUTIONS    ADOPTED    BY    CONGRESS,    JULY    5,     1776    .     171 

Fac-simile  of  a  part   of   the    original   draft    belonging  to   the   Emmet    collection     in    the    Lenox 
Library. 

TEARING  DOWN  THE  LEADEN  STATUE  OF  GEORGE  III.,  ON  BOWL 
ING  GREEN,  NEW  YORK,  TO  CELEBRATE  THE  SIGNING  OF 
THE  DECLARATION  OF  INDEPENDENCE  .  .  .  -173 

THOMAS  JEFFERSON  WRITING  THE  DECLARATION  OF  INDEPEND 
ENCE  I77 

GENERAL    NATHANIEL    GREENE        .......     187 

From  the  painting  by  Charles  Willson  Peale,  1783. 

PART     OF     TABLET      MARKING      THE      LINE      OF      DEFENCE     AT     THE 

BATTLE    OF    LONG    ISLAND    .......     189 

Placed  in  Brooklyn  by  the  Sons  of  the  Revolution. 

GENERAL    ISRAEL    PUTNAM      ........     190 

From  a  portrait  by  //.  /.   Thompson,  after  a  pencil-sketch  from  life  by  John  Trumbull. 

BATTLE  PASS,  PROSPECT  PARK,  BROOKLYN  .....  191 

PRESENT  VIEW  FROM  OLD  FORT  PUTNAM  (NOW  FORT  GREENF.), 

BROOKLYN       .      .      .      .      .      .      .      .      .192 

THE    RETREAT    FROM    LONG    ISLAND  ......     193 

THE    JUMEL    MANSION,    WASHINGTON    HEIGHTS,    NEW    YORK    CITY     .     197 

SITE    OF    FORT    WASHINGTON,    NEW    YORK    CITY,    LOOKING    TOWARD 

FORT    LEE 199 

THE  RETREAT  THROUGH  THE  JERSEYS          .....    203 

WASHINGTON'S  TROOPS  DISEMBARKING  ON  THE   TRENTON  SHORE 

OF  THE  DELAWARE  RIVER          ......    209 

THE    POINT    AT    WHICH    WASHINGTON    CROSSED    THE    DELAWARE 

RIVER  .......  ,211 


LIST   OF  ILLUSTRATIONS  xiii 

PAGE 

THE  SURPRISE  AT  TRENTON 213 

OLD  KING  STREET  (NOW  WARREN  STREET),  TRENTON           .          .  2l5 

A  "CALL  TO  ARMS" 216 

Reproduced,  for  the  first  time,  in  fac-simile  (reduced)  from  the  original  document. 

QUAKER    MEETING-HOUSE,    NEAR    PRINCETON              .             .             .             .  2l8 

THE    BATTLE    OF    PRINCETON              .......  2IQ 

STONY    BROOK    BRIDGE,    NEAR    PRINCETON 221 

HOUSE    AND    ROOM    IN    WHICH    GENERAL    MERCER    DIED                 .             .  222 

NASSAU    HALL,    PRINCETON,    ERECTED    1756 224 

GENERAL    PHILIP    SCHUYLER 232 

From  the  painting  by  Tritmbull  (1792)  in  the  Yale  College  Art  Gallery. 

RUINS    OF    OLD     FORT    FREDERICK,    CROWN    POINT — AT    THE    PRES 
ENT    TIME                .........  233 

THE     HOME    OF    GENERAL    PHILIP    SCHUYLER     AT     OLD     SARATOGA, 

NEAR    SCHUYLERVILLE 234 

GENERAL    JOHN    BURGOYNE    ........  235 

From  an  engraving  (after  the  painting  by  Gardner)  published  in  2784. 

THE    RAVINE    AT    ORISKANY,    NEW    YORK 236 

BATTLE    OF    ORISKANY 237 

GENERAL     HERKIMER'S     HOUSE    AT    DANUBE,    NEAR    LITTLE    FALLS, 

NEW    YORK              .........  239 

OLD    STONE    CHURCH     AT    GERMAN    FLATS    IN    THE    MOHAWK    VAL 
LEY      240 

CASTLE    CHURCH,    NEAR    DANUBE,    IN    THE    MOHAWK    VALLEY             .  241 

GF-NERAL    JOHN    STARK 242 

From  q  painting  (after  Trumbull)  by  U.  D.  Tenney,  at  the  State  Capitol  at  Concord,  N.  H. 

THE    BATTLE    OF    BENNINGTON         .......  245 

CATAMOUNT    TAVERN,    BENNINGTON,   VT.,   THE    HEAD-QUARTERS  OF 

GENERAL    STARK    AND    THE    COUNCIL    OF    SAFETY            .             .  247 

Drawn  from  an  old  photograph. 

MONUMENT    AVENUE,    BENNINGTON,    AT    THE    PRESENT    TIME               .  247 

GENERAL    HORATIO    GATES .  249 

From  the  hitherto  unpublished  portrait  painted  by  R.  E.  Pine,  1785. 


xiv  LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

I'AGE 

OLD      BATTLE      WELL      ON      FREEMAN'S      FARM,     AT      THE      PRESENT 

TIME -251 

CELLAR  AT  THE  PRESENT  TIME  IN  THE  MARSHALL  HOUSE, 
SCHUYLERVILLE,  WHICH  WAS  USED  AS  A  HOSPITAL  FOR 
THE  BRITISH  ....  .  252 

THE    BURIAL    OF    GENERAL    FRASER  .  .  .     253 

SURRENDER     OF     BURGOYNE — FAC-SIMILE    (REDUCED)     OF  A     PART 

OF    THE    ORIGINAL    ARTICLES    OF    CAPITULATION  .  .     257 

Reproduced,  by  permission,  from  the  original  document  in  the  collection  of  the  Ne-w  York  Histori 
cal  Society. 

SURRENDER  OF  BURGOYNE  ........  259 

BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN  .........  273 

From  the  painting  by  Dnplessis,  2778,  in  the  Pennsylvania  Academy  of  Fine  Arts,  Philadelphia. 

WASHINGTON'S    HEAD-QUARTERS,    NEAR    CHAD'S    FORD,    AT    THE 

TIME  OF  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BRANDYWINE      .         .         .  283 

LAFAYETTE'S  HEAD-QUARTERS,  NEAR  CHAD'S  FORD,  DURING  THE 

BATTLE  OF  THE  BRANDYWINE   ......    284 

BATTLE  OF  THE  BRANDYWINE 285 

BIRMINGHAM  MEETING-HOUSE,  NEAR  CHAD'S  FORD       .        .         .  287 

BARON    KNYPHAUSEN,    COMMANDER   OF    THE    HESSIANS   IN    THE 

WAR  BETWEEN  ENGLAND  AND  THE  UNITED  STATES  .          .    289 

From  a  drawing,  the  original  of  -which  is  in  the  possession  of  the  Knyphansen  family. 

THE    CHEW    HOUSE,    GERMANTOWN 292 

THE    ATTACK    UPON    THE    CHEW    HOUSE 293 

THE    REPULSE    OF    THE    HESSIANS    UNDER    COUNT    DONOP    AT    FORT 

MERCER        ..........     297 

LAFAYETTE  ..........     300 

From  a  portrait  painted  by  C.  IV.  Peale  in  1780  for  Washington. 

THE    OLD    POTTS    HOUSE    AT    VALLEY    FORGE,    USED    BY     WASHING 
TON    AS    HEAD-QUARTERS 301 

VIEW    FROM    FORT    HUNTINGTON,  WITH  A   PLAN  OF  THE    INTRENCH- 

MENTS    REMAINING    AT    VALLEY    FORGE  ....     303 

THE    OATH    OF    ALLEGIANCE    TO    THE    UNITED    STATES,   SIGNED    BY 

BENEDICT    ARNOLD    AT    VALLEY    FORGE,     1778         .  .  .    304 

OLD    BELL    USED    IN    THE    CAMP    AT    VALLEY    FORGE  .  .  .     305 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS  xv 


PAGI 


WINTER    AT    VALLEY    FORGE  .......    307 

HOUSE  IN  ARCH  STREET,  PHILADELPHIA,  WHERE  BETSY  ROSS 
MADE  THE  FIRST  AMERICAN  FLAG  FROM  THE  DESIGN 
ADOPTED  BY  CONGRESS 312 

BARON    STEUBEN    ...  .  .  .  .  .     315 

Painted  by  C.  IP.  Peale,  in  1780. 

BATTLE    OF    MONMOUTH  «,  .  .  .  .  .  „  .321 


MAPS 

PLAN    OF    THE    BATTLE    OF    BUNKER    HILL          .  .  .  -72 

After  the  map  made  from   the  surveys  of  the  British   Captain  Montresor    by  Lieutenant  Page, 
aide-de-camp  to  General  Howe. 

THE    BATTLE    OF    LONG    ISLAND l86 

From  a  British  map  of  ij~6. 

MAP    OF    THE    SCENE    OF    THE    BURGOYNE    CAMPAIGN         .  .  .    231 

MAP    SHOWING    THE    SCENE    OF    OPERATIONS    PRECEDING    THE    BAT 
TLE    OF    MONMOUTH     .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .317 


THE    STORY    OF    THE 
REVOLUTION 


CHAPTER    I 

THE     FIRST     STEP 

IN  1774  Philadelphia  was  the  largest  town  in  the  Amer 
ican  Colonies.  Estimates  of  the  population,  which  are 
all  we  have,  differ  widely,  but  it  was  probably  not  far 
from  30,000.  A  single  city  now  has  a  larger  population 
than  all  the  colonies  possessed  in  1774,  and  there  are  in  the 
United  States  to-day  104  cities  and  towns  of  over  30,000 
inhabitants.  Figures  alone,  however,  cannot  express  the 
difference  between  those  days  and  our  own.  Now  a  town 
of  30,000  people  is  reached  by  railroads  and  telegraphs.  It 
is  in  close  touch  with  all  the  rest  of  the  world.  Business 
brings  strangers  to  it  constantly,  who  come  like  shadows 
and  so  depart,  unnoticed,  except  by  those  with  whom  they 
are  immediately  concerned.  This  was  not  the  case  in  i  774, 
not  even  in  Philadelphia,  which  was  as  nearly  as  possible 
the  central  point  of  the  colonies  as  well  as  the  most  popu 
lous  city.  Thanks  to  the  energy  and  genius  of  Franklin, 
Philadelphia  was  paved,  lighted,  and  ordered  in  a  way  al 
most  unknown  in  any  other  town  of  that  period.  It  was 

VOL.  I.— i  i 


,2;;  ,;«•;. THE  STO&Y  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 


well  built  and  thriving.  Business  was  active  and  the  peo 
ple,  who  were  thrifty  and  prosperous,  lived  well.  Yet,  de 
spite  all  these  good  qualities,  we  must  make  an  effort  of  the 
imagination  to  realize  how  quietly  and  slowly  life  moved 
then  in  comparison  to  the  pace  of  to-day.  There  in  Phil 
adelphia  was  the  centre  of  the  postal  system  of  the  conti 
nent,  and  the  recently  established  mail-coach  called  the 
"  Flying  Machine,"  not  in  jest  but  in  praise,  performed  the 
journey  to  New  York  in  the  hitherto  unequalled  time  of 
two  days.  Another  mail  at  longer  intervals  crept  more 
slowly  to  the  South.  Vessels  of  the  coastwise  traffic,  or 
from  beyond  seas,  came  into  port  at  uncertain  times,  and 
after  long  and  still  more  uncertain  voyages.  The  daily 
round  of  life  was  so  regular  and  so  uneventful  that  any  in 
cident  or  any  novelty  drew  interest  and  attention  in  a  way 
which  would  now  be  impossible. 

In  this  thriving,  well-conditioned,  prosperous  colonial 
town,  strangers,  like  events,  were  not  common,  and  their  ap 
pearance  was  sure  to  attract  notice,  especially  if  they  gave 
evidence  of  distinction  or  were  known  to  come  with  an 
important  purpose.  We  can  guess  easily,  therefore,  at  the 
interest  which  was  felt  by  the  people  of  Philadelphia  in  the 
strangers  from  other  colonies  who  began  to  appear  on  their 
streets  in  the  late  summer  of  1774,  although  these  visitors 
were  neither  unexpected  nor  uninvited.  They  were  re 
ceived,  too,  with  the  utmost  kindness  and  with  open  arms. 
We  can  read  in  the  diary  of  John  Adams  how  he  and  his 
companions  from  Massachusetts  were  feted  and  dined,  and 
we  can  learn  from  the  same  authority  how  generous  were 
the  tables  and  how  much  richer  was  the  living  among  the 
followers  of  William  Penn  than  among  the  descendants  of 
the  Puritans. 


THE  FIRST  STEP  3 

But  these  men  from  Massachusetts  and  from  the  other 
colonies  had  not  travelled  over  rough  roads  and  long  dis- 


CA  R  TENTERS '   HA  LL,    PHI  LA  DEL  PHI  A . 


tances  simply  to  try  the  liberal  hospitality  of  the  Quakers 
of  Philadelphia.  They  had  come  there  on  far  more  serious 
business  and  with  a  grave  responsibility  resting  upon  them. 


THE  STORY   OF  THE   REVOLUTION 


JOHN  JA  Y. 

The  earliest  knoivn  portrait  of  him,  en 
graved,  in  1783,  from  a  pencil  drawing 
by  Du  Simitere,  made  in  1779. 


On  September  5th  they  assem 
bled  at  the  City  Tavern,  and  went 
thence  together  to  the  hall  of  the 
Carpenters,  where  they  deter 
mined  to  hold  their  meetings. 
We  can  readily  imagine  how  the 
little  town  was  stirred  and  inter 
ested  as  these  men  passed  along 
its  streets  that  September  morn 
ing  from  the  tavern  to  the  hall. 
The  bystanders  who  were  watch 
ing  them  as  they  walked  by  were 
trying,  no  doubt,  after  the  fash 
ion  of  human  nature,  to  pick  out  and  identify  those  whose 
names  were  already  familiar.  We  may  be  sure  that  they 
noticed  Christopher  Gadsden  and  the  two  Rutledges  from 
South  Carolina ;  they  must  have  marked  John  Jay's  calm, 
high-bred  face,  and  the  vener 
able  figure  of  Hopkins  of 
Rhode  Island,  while  Roger 
Sherman  of  Connecticut,  tall, 
grave,  impressive,  with  his 
strong,  handsome  features, 
could  have  been  readily  identi 
fied.  They  certainly  looked 
with  especial  eagerness  for  the 
Massachusetts  delegates,  their 
curiosity,  we  may  believe,  min 
gled  with  something  of  the 
suspicion  and  dread  which 
these  particular  men  then  in 
spired  in  slow-moving,  conserv- 


JOHN  ADAMS. 
From  a.  fainting  by  Blyth,  1763. 


SAMUEL  ADAMS, 
(he  portrait  painted  by  Copley  in  1773,    A'ow  in  possession  of  t/\ 


of  Fine  Arts. 


THE  FIRST  STEP  7 

ative  Pennsylvania.  When  the  Boston  men  came  along, 
there  must  have  been  plenty  of  people  to  point  out  a  short, 
sturdy,  full-blooded  man,  clearly  of  a  restless,  impetuous, 
and  ardent  temperament,  and  to  tell  each  other  that  there 
was  John  Adams,  the  distinguished  lawyer  and  brilliant 
debater,  whose  fame  in  the  last  few  years  had  spread  far 
from  his  native  town.  With  him  was  to  be  seen  an  older 
man,  one  still  better  known,  and  regarded  as  still  more 
dangerous,  whose  fame  had  gone  even  across  the  water  to 
England,  Samuel  Adams  of  Boston.  He  was  taller  than 
his  cousin,  with  a  somewhat  stern,  set  face  of  the  Puritan 
type.  He  was  plainly  dressed,  very  likely  in  dark-brown 
cloth,  as  Copley  painted  him,  and  yet  his  friends  had 
almost  by  force  fitted  him  out  with  clothes  suitable  for  this 
occasion,  simple  as  they  were,  for  if  left  to  himself  he 
would  have  come  as  carelessly  and  roughly  clad  as  was 
his  habit  at  home.  A  man  not  much  given  to  speech,  an 
organizer,  a  manager  and  master  of  men,  relentless  in  pur 
pose,  a  planner  of  revolution,  with  schemes  and  outlooks 
far  beyond  most  of  those  about  him.  Yes,  on  the  whole, 
here  was  a  dangerous  man  to  people  in  high  places  whom 
he  meant  to  disturb  or  oppose. 

And  after  the  bystanders  had  watched  curiously  the 
New  England  group,  they  looked  next  for  those  who  came 
from  the  great  colony  of  Virginia,  which,  with  Massachu 
setts,  was  to  sway  the  Congress  and  carry  it  forward  to 
stronger  measures  than  the  other  colonies  then  desired. 
Conspicuous  among  the  Virginians  they  saw  an  eminent 
member  of  the  Randolph  family,  and  those  who  were  well 
informed  no  doubt  wondered  why  they  did  not  see  by  Ran 
dolph's  side  the  slight  figure  and  keen  face  of  Richard 
Henry  Lee,  a  fit  representative  of  the  great  Virginian 


THE  STORY  OF  THE   REVOLUTION 


name,  who  had  come  to  Phila 
delphia,  but  did  not  appear  in 
Congress  until  the  second  day. 
All  these  Virginian  delegates, 
indeed,  were  well  known,  by 
reputation  at  least,  and  there 
could  have  been  no  difficulty 
in  singling  out  among  them 
the  man  whose  fiery  eloquence 
had  brought  the  cry  of  "  Trea 
son  "  ringing  about  his  ears  in 
the  House  of  Burgesses.  The 

PEYTON  RANDOLPH,   OF   VIRGINIA,  f      ~          .     1         TT 

THE  FIRST  PRESIDENT  OF  THE  name  ot    Fatrick    Henry   had 

CONTINENTAL   CONGRESS.  i  ,,  ,., 

been  sent  across  the  water,  like 

From  a  painting  by  C.  If.  Peale,  1774. 

that  of  Samuel  Adams,  and  we 

may  be  sure  that  the  crowd  was  looking  with  intense  curi 
osity  for  a   sight   of   the   already   famous   orator.     When 
they  found  him  they  saw  a  tall,  spare  man,  nearly  forty  years 
of  age,  with  a  slight  stoop  of 
the   shoulders,  a   strong,  well- 
cut  face,  and  keen,  penetrating 
eyes  deeply  set  beneath  a  broad 
high    forehead    on    which    the 
furrows  of  thought  had  already 
come.    They  must  have  noted, 
too,   that    he   was    negligently 
dressed,  and  that  he  had  a  very 
grave,  almost  severe,  look,  un 
til  a  smile  came,  which  light 
ed  up  his  face  and  showed  all 

the    kindliness    and   sympathy        RICHARD  HENRY  LEE,  OF  VIR- 
of  an  emotional  nature.  GINIA' 

Painting-  by  C.  IV.  Peale,  i-jgi. 


THE  FIRST  STEP  9 

The  names  of  Henry  and  of  Adams  were  more  familiar 
just  at  that  moment  than  those  of  any  others.  They  were 
the  men  who  by  speech  and  pen  had  done  more  than 
anyone  else  to  touch  the  heart  and  imagination  of  the 
people  in  the  progress  of  those  events  which  had  caused 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON  AT  THE  AGE   OF  FORTY. 

Painted  by  Charles  IVillson  Peale,  1772.     This  picture  s/w7t's  Washington  in  the  uniform  of  a  Virginian 

Colonel. 

this  gathering  in  Philadelphia.  Yet  there  was  one  man 
there  that  day  who  had  made  no  speeches  and  drawn  no 
resolutions,  but  who,  nevertheless,  was  better  known  than 
any  of  them,  and  who,  alone,  among  them  all,  had  a 
soldier's  fame  won  on  hard-fought  fields.  There  was  not 
much  need  to  point  him  out,  for  he  was  the  type  of  man 
that  commands  attention  and  does  not  need  identification. 


io  THE  STORY   OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

Very  tall  and  large,  admirably  proportioned,  with  every 
sign  of  great  physical  strength  ;  a  fine  head  and  face  of 
power,  with  a  strong  jaw  and  a  mouth  accurately  closed  ; 
calm  and  silent  with  a  dignity  which  impressed  every 
one  who  ever  entered  his  presence,  there  was  no  need 
to  tell  the  onlookers  that  here  was  Colonel  Washing 
ton.  What  he  had  done  they  knew.  What  he  was  yet 
to  do  no  one  dreamed,  but  such  was  the  impression 
he  made  upon  all  who  came  near  him  that  we  may  easily 
believe  that  the  people  who  gazed  at  him  in  the  streets 
felt  dumbly  what  Patrick  Henry  said  for  those  who 
met  him  in  the  Congress  :  "  Washington  is  unquestion 
ably  the  greatest  of  them  all."  Thus  he  came  to  the 
opening  scene  of  the  Revolution  as  he  went  back  to 
Mount  Vernon  at  the  war's  close,  quietly  and  silently,  the 
great  figure  of  the  time,  the  doer  of  deeds  to  whom  Con 
gress  and  people  turned  as  by  instinct.  On  the  way  to 
Philadelphia,  Pendleton  and  Henry  had  joined  him  at 
Mount  Vernon  and  passed  the  night  there,  hospitably  re 
ceived  in  the  Virginian  fashion  both  by  their  host  and  by 
Mrs.  Washington,  who  was  a  woman  of  pronounced  views 
and  had  the  full  courage  of  her  convictions.  To  Pendle 
ton  and  Henry  she  said  :  "  I  hope  you  will  all  stand  firm. 
I  know  George  will."  It  is  a  delightful  speech  to  have 
been  spared  to  us  through  the  century,  with  its  knowledge 
of  her  husband's  character  and  its  touch  of  wifely  com 
mand.  Only  a  few  years  before,  a  mother  across  the  water 
had  been  saying  to  her  son,  "  George,  be  a  king,"  and  the 
worthy,  stubborn  man  with  his  limited  intelligence  was 
trying  now  to  obey  that  mother  in  his  own  blundering 
fashion.  How  far  apart  they  seem,  the  German  Princess 
and  the  Virginian  lady,  with  their  commands  to  husband 


THE  FIRST  STEP 


1 1 


and  to  son.  And  yet  the  great  forces  of  the  time  were 
bringing  the  two  men  steadily  together  in  a  conflict  which 
was  to  settle  the  fate  of  a  nation.  They  were  beginning 
to  draw  very  near  to  each  other  on  that  September  morn 
ing  ;  the  king  by  accident  of  birth,  and  the  king  who 
would  never  wear  a  crown,  but  who  was  appointed  to  lead 


THE     ASSEMBLY    ROOM,   CARPENTERS'   HALL,    WHERE    THE     CONTINENTAL 
CONGRESS  FIRST  MET. 

men  by  the  divine  right  of  the  greatness  of  mind  and  will 
which  was  in  him. 

George  Washington,  ascending  the  steps  of  Carpen 
ters'  Hall,  knew  all  about  the  other  George,  and  had  been 
proud  to  call  himself  the  loyal  subject  of  his  namesake. 
The  British  George,  with  no  English  blood  in  his  veins, 
except  the  little  drop  which  came  to  him  from  the  poor 
Winter  Queen,  had  probably  never  heard  even  the  name 
of  the  American  soldier,  although  he  was  destined  to  learn 


12  THE  STORY   OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

a  great  deal  about  him  in  the  next  few  years.  Yet  Wash 
ington  was  much  the  best-known  man  in  America,  with 
the  single  exception  of  Franklin,  whose  scientific  work 
and  whose  missions  to  England  had  given  him  a  European 
reputation.  Washington  had  commanded  the  troops  in 
that  little  action  in  the  wilderness  when  the  first  shot  of 
the  Seven  Years'  War  was  fired,  a  war  in  which  Frederick 
of  Prussia  had  made  certain  famous  campaigns  and  which 
had  cost  France  her  hold  on  North  America.  Later  he 
had  saved  the  wretched  remnants  of  Braddock's  army,  his 
name  had  figured  in  gazettes,  and  had  been  embalmed  in 
Horace  Walpole's  letters.  That,  however,  was  all  twenty 
years  before,  and  was  probably  quite  forgotten  in  1774 
outside  America.  Samuel  Adams  was  known  in  England, 
as  Percy  was  known  to  the  Prince  of  Wales,  for  a  ''very 
valiant  rebel  of  that  name."  Possibly  John  Adams  and 
Patrick  Henry  had  been  heard  of  in  similar  fashion.  But 
as  a  whole,  the  members  of  the  first  American  Congress 
were  unknown  outside  the  colonies,  and  many  of  them 
were  not  known  beyond  the  limits  of  the  particular  colony 
they  represented.  To  England  and  her  ministers  and 
people  these  forty  or  fifty  grave  gentlemen,  lawyers,  mer 
chants,  and  planters,  were  merely  a  body  of  obscure  col 
onial  persons  who  were  meeting  in  an  unauthorized  man 
ner  for  distinctly  treasonable  and  objectionable  purposes. 
To  the  courts  of  Europe,  engaged  at  the  moment  in 
meaningless  intrigues,  either  foreign  or  domestic,  and  all 
alike  grown  quite  dim  now,  this  Colonial  Congress  was 
not  even  obscure,  it  was  not  visible  at  all.  Yet,  thought 
fully  regarded,  it  deserved  consideration  much  better 
than  anything  which  just  then  engaged  the  attention  of 
Europe.  Fifteen  years  later  its  utterances  were  to  be 


THE  FIRST  STEP  13 

quoted  as  authority,  and  its  example  emulated  in  Paris 
when  an  ancient  monarchy  was  tottering  to  its  fall.  It 
was  the  start  of  a  great  movement  which  was  to  sweep  on 
until  checked  at  Waterloo.  This  same  movement  was  to 
begin  its  march  again  in  1830  in  the  streets  of  Paris  and 
carry  the  reform  of  the  British  Parliament  two  years  later. 
It  was  to  break  forth  once  more  in  1848  and  keep  steadily 
on  advancing  and  conquering,  although  its  work  is  still 
incomplete  even  among  the  nations  of  Western  civiliza 
tion.  Yet,  no  one  in  Europe  heeded  it  at  the  moment, 
and  they  failed  to  see  that  it  meant  not  simply  a  colonial 
quarrel,  not  merely  the  coming  of  a  new  nation,  but  the 
rising  of  the  people  to  take  their  share  in  the  governments 
of  the  earth.  It  was  in  fact  the  first  step  in  the  great 
democratic  movement  which  has  made  history  ever  since. 
The  columns  were  even  then  beginning  to  move,  and  the 
beat  of  the  drums  could  be  heard  faintly  in  the  quiet  Phil 
adelphia  streets.  They  were  still  distant,  but  they  were 
ever  drawing  nearer,  and  their  roll  went  on  rising  louder 
and  louder,  until  at  last  they  sounded  in  the  ears  of  men 
from  Concord  Bridge  to  Moscow. 

Why  did  this  come  about  ?  Why  was  it  that  the  first 
step  in  a  world  Revolution  destined  to  wrest  her  colo 
nies  from  England,  bring  a  reign  of  terror  to  France,  and 
make  over  the  map  of  Europe  before  it  passed  away,  was 
taken  in  the  peaceful  town  of  Philadelphia  ?  There  was 
nothing  inevitable  about  the  American  Revolution,  con 
sidered  by  itself.  The  colonies  were  very  loyal,  very 
proud  to  be  a  part  of  the  great  British  Empire.  If  the 
second-rate  men  who  governed  England  at  that  time  had 
held  to  the  maxim  of  their  great  predecessor,  Sir  Robert 
Walpole,  quieta  non  movere,  and  like  him  had  let  the  col- 


H  THE  STORY   OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

onies  carefully  alone ;  or  if  they  had  been  ruled  by  the 
genius  of  Pitt  and  had  called  upon  the  colonies  as  part  of 
the  empire  to  share  in  its  glories  and  add  to  its  greatness, 
there  would  have  been  no  American  Revolution.  But  they 
insisted  on  meddling,  and  so  the  trouble  began  with  the 
abandonment  of  Walpole's  policy.  They  added  to  this 
blunder  by  abusing  and  sneering  at  the  colonists  instead  of 
appealing,  like  Pitt,  to  their  loyalty  and  patriotism.  Even 
then,  after  all  their  mistakes,  they  still  might  have  saved 
the  situation  which  they  had  themselves  created.  A  few 
concessions,  a  return  to  the  old  policies,  and  all  would 
have  been  well.  They  made  every  concession  finally,  but 
each  one  came  just  too  late,  and  so  the  colonies  were  lost 
by  sheer  stupidity  and  blundering  on  the  part  of  the  king 
and  his  ministers. 

From  this  point  of  view,  then,  there  was  nothing  inev 
itable  about  the  American  Revolution.  It  was  created  by 
a  series  of  ministerial  mistakes,  each  one  of  which  could 
have  been  easily  avoided.  From  another  point  of  view, 
however,  it  was  absolutely  inevitable,  the  inexorable  result 
of  the  great  social  and  political  forces  which  had  long 
been  gathering  and  now  were  beginning  to  move  forward. 
The  first  resistance  to  the  personal  monarchies  which  grew 
up  from  the  ruins  of  the  feudal  system  came  in  England, 
the  freest  and  best-governed  country  in  the  world  of  the 
seventeenth  century.  The  people  rose  and  destroyed  the 
personal  government  which  Charles  I.  tried  to  set  up,  not 
because  they  were  oppressed  and  crushed  by  tyranny,  nor 
because  they  had  grievances  too  heavy  to  be  borne,  but  be 
cause  they  were  a  free  people,  jealous  of  their  rights,  with 
the  instinct  of  liberty  strong  within  them.  In  the  same 
way  when  the  great  democratic  movement  started,  at  the 


THE  FIRST  STEP  15 

close  of  the  eighteenth  century,  it  began  in  England,  where 
there  was  no  despotic  personal  monarchy,  where  personal 
liberty  was  most  assured,  and  where  freedom  existed  in  the 
largest  measure.  The  abuses  of  aristocracy  and  monarchy 
in  England  were  as  nothing  to  what  they  were  on  the  con 
tinent.  The  subjects  of  George  III.  were  not  ground 
down  by  taxes,  were  not  sold  to  military  service,  were  not 
trampled  on  by  an  aristocracy  and  crushed  by  their  king. 
They  were  the  freest,  best-governed  people  on  earth,  faulty 
as  their  government  no  doubt  was  in  many  respects.  Vet 
it  was  among  the  English-speaking  people  that  we  detect 
the  first  signs  of  the  democratic  movement,  for,  as  they 
were  the  least  oppressed,  so  they  were  the  most  sensitive 
to  any  abuse  or  to  any  infringement  upon  the  liberties 
they  both  prized  and  understood.  The  entire  English  peo 
ple,  both  at  home  and  abroad,  were  thus  affected.  The 
Middlesex  elections,  the  career  of  Wilkes,  the  letters  of 
Junius,  the  resolution  of  Burke  against  the  increasing 
power  of  the  Crown,  the  rising  demand  for  Parliamentary 
reform,  the  growing  hostility  to  the  corrupt  system  of  bar 
gain  and  intrigue,  by  which  the  great  families  parcelled  out 
offices  and  seats  and  controlled  Parliament,  all  pointed  in 
the  same  direction,  all  were  signs  of  an  approaching  storm. 
If  the  revolution  had  not  come  in  the  American  colonies, 
it  would  have  come  in  England  itself.  The  storm  broke 
in  the  colonies  for  the  same  reason  which  had  made  the 
English  strike  down  at  its  very  inception  the  personal  mon 
archy  of  the  seventeenth  century,  and  which  forced  them 
to  be  the  first  to  exhibit  signs  of  deep  political  unrest  in 
the  last  quarter  of  the  eighteenth  century.  The  colonies 
were  the  least-governed,  the  best-governed,  and  the  freest 
part  of  the  dominion  of  Great  Britain.  A  people  who  for 


16  THE  STORY  OF  THE   REVOLUTION 

a  hundred  and  fifty  years  had  practically  governed  them 
selves,  and  who,  like  all  other  English-speaking  people, 
understood  the  value  of  their  liberties,  were  the  quickest 
to  feel  and  to  resent  any  change  which  seemed  to  signify 
a  loss  of  absolute  freedom,  and  were  sure  to  be  the  most 
jealous  of  anything  like  outside  interference.  America 
rebelled,  not  because  the  colonies  were  oppressed,  but 
because  their  inhabitants  were  the  freest  people  then  in  the 
world,  and  did  not  mean  to  suffer  oppression.  They  did 
not  enter  upon  resistance  to  England  to  redress  intolerable 
grievances,  but  because  they  saw  a  policy  adopted  which 
they  rightly  believed  threatened  the  freedom  they  possessed. 
As  Burke  said,  they  judged  "the  pressure  of  the  grievance 
by  the  badness  of  the  principle,"  and  "  snuffed  the  approach 
of  tyranny  in  every  tainted  breeze."  They  were  the  most 
dangerous  people  in  the  world  to  meddle  with,  because 
they  were  ready  to  fight,  not  to  avenge  wrongs  which  in 
deed  they  had  not  suffered,  but  to  maintain  principles  upon 
which  their  rights  and  liberty  rested.  The  English  min 
istry  had  begun  to  assail  those  principles  ;  they  were  mak 
ing  clumsy  and  hesitating  attempts  to  take  money  from  the 
colonies  without  leave  of  the  people  ;  and  George,  in  a  be 
lated  way,  was  trying  to  be  a  king  and  revive  an  image  of 
the  dead  and  gone  personal  monarchy  of  Charles  I.  Hence 
came  resistance,  very  acute  in  one  colony,  shared  more  or 
less  by  all.  Hence  the  Congress  in  Philadelphia  and  the 
great  popular  movement  starting  as  if  inevitably  in  that 
quiet  colonial  town  among  the  freest  portion  of  the  liberty- 
loving  English  race. 

It  was  these  great  forces  which,  moving  silently  and 
irresistibly,  had  brought  these  English  colonists  from  their 
plantations  and  offices,  and  sent  them  along  the  streets  of 


THE  FIRST  STEP  17 


GENERAL  JOHN  SULLIVAN. 

From  the  original  pencil-sketch  made  by  John  Trumbitll,  at  Exeter,  N.  ff.,  in  1790.    Now  published,  for  the  first 
time,  by  the  permission  of  his  grandson,  in  -whose  possession  the  original  now  is. 

Philadelphia  to  Carpenters'  Hall.  The  deepest  causes  of 
the  movement,  stretching  far  out  among  the  nations  of  the 
West,  were  quite  unrecognized  then,  but  nevertheless  the 
men  were  there  to  carry  on  the  work,  forty-four  of  them 
in  all,  and  representing  eleven  colonies.  In  a  few  days 

North  Carolina's  delegates  appeared,  and  one  by  one  others 
VOL.  I.— 2 


i8  THE   STORY   OF  THE   REVOLUTION 

who  had  been  delayed,  until  fifty-five  members  were  present, 
and  all  the  colonies  represented  but  Georgia.  They  went 
to  work  after  the  orderly  fashion  of  their  race,  elected 
Peyton  Randolph,  of  Virginia,  President,  and  Charles 
Thomson,  a  patriotic  citizen  of  Philadelphia,  Secretary. 
Then  they  turned  to  the  practical  and  very  far-reaching 
question  of  how  they  should  vote,  whether  by  colonies  or 
by  population.  "  A  little  colony,"  said  John  Sullivan,  of 
New  Hampshire,  "  has  its  all  at  stake  as  well  as  a  great 
one."  "  Let  us  rest  on  a  representation  of  men,"  said 
Henry.  "  British  oppression  has  effaced  the  boundaries  of 
the  several  colonies  ;  the  distinctions  between  Virginians, 
Pennsylvanians,  New  Yorkers,  and  New  Englanders  are 
no  more.  I  am  not  a  Virginian,  but  an  American."  Two 
contending  principles  on  which  American  history  was  to 
turn  were  thus  announced  at  the  very  outset.  Sullivan's 
was  the  voice  of  the  time,  of  separation  and  State  rights. 
Henry's  was  the  voice  of  the  distant  future,  of  union  and 
of  nationality.  It  took  more  than  eighty  years  of  union, 
and  a  great  civil  war,  to  establish  the  new  principle  pro 
claimed  by  Henry.  At  the  moment  it  had  no  chance,  and 
the  doctrine  of  Sullivan,  in  harmony  with  every  prejudice 
as  well  as  every  habit  of  thought,  prevailed,  and  they  de 
cided  to  vote  by  colonies,  each  colony  having  one  vote. 

Then  they  appointed  committees  and  fell  to  work. 
There  was  much  debate,  much  discussion,  many  wide  dif 
ferences  of  opinion,  but  these  lovers  of  freedom  sat  with 
closed  doors,  and  the  result,  which  alone  reached  the  world, 
went  forth  with  all  the  force  of  unanimous  action.  We 
know  now  what  the  debates  and  the  differences  were,  and 
they  are  not  of  much  moment.  The  results  are  the  im 
portant  things,  as  the  Congress  wisely  thought  at  the  time. 


T    H    £ 

ASSOCIATION, 


WE,  his  Majefty:s  moft  loyal  fubjects,  the 
Delegates  of  the  ieveral  Colonies  of 
New-IIampfh-ire,  Maflkchufett's  Bay,  Rhode- 
IQand,  Connecticut,  New-York,  New  Jericy,^ 
Penniylvania,  the  Thrte  Lower  Counties  of 
Newcaftle,  Kent,  and  Suflex,  on  Delaware, 
Maryland,  Virginia,  North-Carolina,  and  South- 
Carolina,  deputed  to  reprelent  them  in  a  conti 
nental  Congrefs,  held  in  the  city  of  Philadel 
phia,  on  the  fifth  day  of  September,  1774, 
avowing  our  allegiance  to  his  Majtily,  our  af- 
feftion  and  regard  for  our  fellow-fubjec"h  in 
Great-Britain  and  ellewhere,  affc&ed  with  the 


THE  foregoing  Aflbciation  being  determined 

upon  by  the  CONGRESS,  \va:>  ordered  to  be  fub- 

icribed  by   the  ieveral   Members  thereof;     and 

:!:<jreupon   we  havs  hereunto  fee  our  refpecl;ivr 

;.r.i  ?3  accordingly. 

In  Cingrefs*   PhiladeMia.  Qfiober  20,  1774. 


- 


-    *7-3  ^ 


20  THE  STORY   OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

True  to  the  traditions  and  instincts  of  their  race,  they  de 
cided  to  rest  their  case  upon  historic  rather  than  natural 
rights.  They  adopted  a  Declaration  of  Rights,  an  address 
to  the  people  of  Great  Britain  drawn  by  Jay,  and  an  ad 
dress  to  the  King  by  John  Dickinson.  Both  Jay  and  Dick 
inson  were  moderate  men,  and  the  tone  of  the  addresses 
was  fair  and  conciliatory.  On  the  motion  of  the  dangerous 


JOHN  DICKINSON,    OF  PENNSYLVANIA. 
From  a  painting  ly  C.  W.  Feale,    JJQr. 

John  Adams,  they  conceded  the  right  of  the  mother- 
country  to  regulate  their  external  trade,  while  at  the  same 
time  they  firmly  denied  the  right  to  tax  them  without  their 
consent,  or  to  change  their  form  of  government.  The 
case  was  argued  with  great  force  and  ability.  It  appeared 
when  all  was  done  and  the  arguments  published  to  the  world, 
that  these  obscure  colonial  persons,  whose  names  were  un 
known  in  the  courts  of  Europe,  had  produced  some  remark 
able  state  papers.  "When  your  lordships,"  said  Chatham, 


THE  FIRST  STEP  21 

"  look  at  the  papers  transmitted  us  from  America,  when 
you  consider  their  decency,  firmness,  and  wisdom,  you  can 
not  but  respect  their  cause  and  wish  to  make  it  your  own. 
For  myself,  I  must  avow  that  in  all  my  reading — and  I 
have  read  Thucydides,  and  have  studied  and  admired  the 
master  states  of  the  world — for  solidity  of  reason,  force  of 
sagacity,  and  wisdom  of  conclusion  under  a  complication 
of  difficult  circumstances,  no  body  of  men  can  stand  in 
preference  to  the  general  Congress  at  Philadelphia.  The 
histories  of  Greece  and  Rome  give  us  nothing  equal  to  it, 
and  all  attempts  to  impose  servitude  on  such  a  mighty 
continental  nation  must  be  in  vain.  We  shall  be  forced 
ultimately  to  retract ;  let  us  retract  when  we  can  ;  not 
when  we  must."  Pregnant  words  !  The  man  who  had  led 
England  to  the  greatest  heights  of  glory  detected  a  deep 
meaning  in  this  little  American  Congress  at  Philadelphia. 
He  saw  that  they  had  left  the  door  wide  open  to  a  settle 
ment  and  adjustment  of  all  difficulties,  that  they  wished 
to  avert  and  not  gain  independence,  that  their  cause  was 
strong  and  the  conquest  of  a  continent  impossible,  and  so 
he  pleaded  with  England  to  look  and  learn.  But  Chat 
ham  had  the  eye  of  a  great  statesman,  while  the  King  and 
ministry  were  dull  and  blind.  He  spoke  in  vain  ;  he  read 
the  writing  on  the  wall  to  deaf  ears.  The  rulers  of  Eng 
land  neither  saw  the  open  door  of  reconciliation  nor  com 
prehended  the  dangers  which  lurked  behind.  They  paid 
no  heed  to  arguments  and  pleas  ;  they  felt  only  irritation 
at  the  measures  which  went  with  the  words  of  the  addresses. 
For  Congress  had  not  only  spoken  but  acted.  Before 
they  adjourned  on  October  26th,  they  had  passed  a  resolve 
against  the  slave-trade  ;  they  had  signed  agreements  to 
neither  import  nor  export,  exempting  rice  alone  from  the 


22  THE  STORY   OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

prohibition  of  trade  with  England  ;  they  appointed  a  sec 
ond  Congress,  and  they  voted  to  sustain  Massachusetts, 
where  the  conflict  had  begun  and  was  now  fast  culminat 
ing,  in  her  resistance  to  England.  Not  at  all  palatable 
this  last  vote  to  an  honest  gentleman  of  German  parentage 
who  was  trying  to  be  a  king.  It  is  to  be  feared  that  it  had 
more  effect  on  the  royal  mind  than  all  the  loyal  addresses 
ever  penned.  George  did  not  like  people  who  favored  re 
sistance  of  any  kind  to  what  he  wanted,  and  his  ministers 
were  engaged  in  sharing  his  likes  and  dislikes  at  that  period 
for  personal  reasons  very  obvious  to  themselves.  Highly 
offensive  too  was  the  proposition  to  have  another  Con 
gress,  inasmuch  as  the  very  existence  of  a  Continental 
Congress  meant  union,  and  the  ministry  relied  on  disunion 
among  the  colonies  for  success.  Arranging  for  a  second 
Congress  looked  unpleasantly  like  a  determination  to 
persist,  and  as  if  these  men  were  so  satisfied  of  the 
goodness  of  their  cause  that  they  were  bent  on  having 
what  they  wanted,  even  at  some  little  cost.  In  that  pur 
pose,  unfortunately,  they  were  somewhat  like  the  King 
himself.  Yet  to  all  men  now,  and  to  many  intelligent 
men  then,  it  seemed  a  pity  to  lose  these  great  colonies,  so 
anxious  to  remain  loyal  and  to  continue  part  of  the  British 
Empire,  merely  for  the  sake  of  taxing  them  against  their 
will.  All  England  had  heard  Chatham,  and  all  England 
knew  from  him  what  this  Congress  meant.  After  he  had 
spoken  no  one  could  plead  ignorance.  It  only  remained 
to  see  what  England's  rulers  would  do,  and  it  soon  became 
clear  that  England's  rulers  would  do  nothing  except  persist 
in  their  policy  of  force.  Meantime  the  Congress  dispersed 
and  the  members  scattered  to  their  homes  to  wait  upon 
events.  They  had  not  long  to  wait,  for  they  had  begun  the 


THE  FIRST  STEP  23 

American    Revolution,    loyal,    peaceful,   and    anxious   for 
reconciliation  as  they  were. 

The  English  ministry  it  is  certain  did  not  comprehend 
at  all  what  this  Congress  meant.  They  were  engaged  in 
the  congenial  task  of  undertaking  to  rule  a  continental 
empire  as  if  it  were  a  village.  This  method  was  well 
adapted  to  their  own  mental  calibre,  but  was  not  suited 
to  the  merciless  realities  of  the  case.  Therefore  they  re 
garded  the  Congress  as  merely  an  audacious  performance 
which  was  to  be  frowned  upon,  punished,  and  put  down. 
The  members  of  the  Congress  themselves  took  a  much 
graver  and  juster  view  of  what  had  happened.  They 
realized  that  the  mere  fact  of  a  Congress  was  itself  of 
great  moment,  that  it  meant  union,  and  that  union  was 
the  first  step  toward  an  American  nation  which  could  only 
come  from  the  breaking  down  of  local  barriers  and  the 
fusion  of  all  the  colonies  for  a  common  purpose.  They 
were  against  independence,  and  yet  they  saw,  what  the 
King  and  his  ministers  could  not  understand,  that  it  was 
a  very  near  possibility  if  the  existing  situation  was  con 
tinued.  But  it  is  also  clear  that  they  failed  to  see  be 
hind  the  possibility  of  independence  the  deeper  signifi 
cance  of  the  work  in  which  they  were  engaged.  This 
was  only  natural,  for  they  were  properly  absorbed  in  the 
practical  and  pressing  questions  with  which  they  were 
called  to  deal.  They  could  not  be  expected  to  grasp  and 
formulate  the  fact  that  they  were  beginning  the  battle  of 
the  people  everywhere  to  secure  control  of  their  own 
governments  for  which  they  paid  and  fought.  Yet  the 
doctrine  had  been  laid  down  for  them  twelve  years  before. 
In  1762  James  Otis,  with  one  of  those  flashes  of  deep  in 
sight  which  made  him  one  of  the  most  remarkable  of  all 


24  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

the  men  who  led  the  way  to  revolution,  had  declared  in  a 
pamphlet  that  "  Kings  were  made  for  the  good  of  the 
people,  and  not  the  people  for  them."  This  was  one  of 
the  propositions  on  which  he  rested  his  argument.  For 
gotten  in  the  passage  of  time,  and  lost  in  the  hurly-burly 
of  events,  here  was  a  declaration  which  wrent  far  beyond 
any  question  of  colonial  rights  or  even  of  American  in 
dependence.  Here  was  a  doctrine  subversive  of  all  exist 
ing  systems  in  the  eighteenth  century,  and  as  applicable 
to  Europe  as  to  America.  Now  in  1774  a  Congress 
had  met  and  had  acted  unconsciously,  but  none  the  less 
efficiently,  upon  Otis's  proposition.  For,  stripped  of  all 
disguises  and  all  temporary  questions,  this  was  what  the 
Congress  meant :  that  the  people  of  America  did  not  pro 
pose  to  have  Great  Britain  govern  them,  except  as  they 
pleased,  and  that  they  intended  to  control  their  own  gov 
ernments  and  govern  themselves.  Congress  had  taken 
the  first  step  along  this  new  road.  They  could  still  turn 
back.  The  English  ministry  had  still  time  to  yield.  But 
the  irrevocable  decision  was  to  be  made  elsewhere,  not 
in  London  nor  in  Philadelphia,  not  among  ministers  or 
members  of  Congress,  but  by  certain  plain  men  with  arms 
in  their  hands,  far  away  to  the  North,  whose  action  would 
put  it  beyond  the  power  of  Congress  to  retreat,  even  if 
they  had  desired  to  do  so. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE    FIRST    BLOW 

IN  Philadelphia,  then,  Congress  took  the  first  step  in 
the  Revolution,  and  set  forth,  in  firm  and  able  fashion, 
the  arguments  on  which  they  rested  their  case  and  by 
which  they  still  hoped  to  convince  the  reason  and  appeal 
to  the  affection  of  the  English  people  and  the  English 
King.  They  were  far  from  convinced  that  they  would 
not  succeed  in  securing  a  change  of  the  British  policy 
which  they  were  resolved  to  resist,  as  they  had  already 
done  in  the  case  of  the  Stamp  Act,  ten  years  before. 
They  could  not  even  yet  believe  that  the  series  of  meas 
ures  directed  against  Boston  and  Massachusetts  showed 
a  settled  determination  on  the  part  of  the  rulers  of  Eng 
land  to  make  them  subject  to  an  irresponsible  government, 
which  they  never  had  endured  and  to  which  they  never 
would  submit. 

When  Congress  adjourned,  on  October  26th,  much 
had  been  done,  but  the  question  was  not  to  be  settled  in 
the  field  of  debate.  The  dread  appeal  from  Parliaments 
and  Ministries  and  Congresses  was  to  be  taken  elsewhere, 
taken  under  the  pressure  of  inexorable  circumstances  by 
the  people  themselves.  Among  those  men  whose  an 
cestors  had  followed  Pym  and  Hampden  and  Cromwell 
when  they  crushed  crown  and  church  in  one  common 

25 


26  THE  STORY   OF  THE   REVOLUTION 

ruin  ;  whose  forefathers,  a  hundred  years  before,  defying 
Charles  II.,  had  sent  his  commissioners,  beaten  and  help 
less,  home,  and  later,  had  imprisoned  and  banished  James 
II. 's  governor,  this  new  resistance  to  England  first  took 
on  form  and  substance.  There,  in  Massachusetts,  that 
resistance  had  grown  and  culminated  since  the  days  of  the 
Stamp  Act.  In  that  colony  there  was  a  powerful  clergy 
determined  to  prevent  the  overthrow  of  the  Puritan 
churches  and  the  setting  up  of  the  Church  of  England. 
In  the  streets  of  Boston  there  had  been  rioting  and  blood 
shed,  and  Americans  had  been  killed  by  the  fire  of  British 
troops.  On  that  devoted  town  had  fallen  the  punishment 
of  an  angry  ministry,  and  her  closed  harbor  told  the  story 
of  a  struggle  which  had  already  passed  from  words  to  deeds. 
There  feeling  was  tense  and  strained,  arguments  were 
worn  out,  an  independent  provincial  government  was  fac 
ing  that  of  the  King,  and  popular  leaders  were  in  danger 
of  arrest  and  death.  Such  a  situation  could  not  last  long. 
The  only  question  was,  when  and  where  the  break  would 
come.  When  would  the  power  of  England  make  a  move 
which  would  cause  the  democracy  of  America  to  strike  at 
it  with  the  armed  hand  ?  That  once  done,  all  would  be 
done.  Congress  would  then  cease  to  argue  and  begin  to 
govern,  and  the  sword  would  decide  whether  the  old 
forces  or  the  new  were  to  rule  in  America. 

Looking  at  the  situation  now  it  is  clear  enough  that 
the  break  was  destined  to  come  from  some  attempt  by  the 
British  authorities  in  Massachusetts  to  stop  military  prep 
arations  on  the  part  of  the  colonists  by  seizing  their 
stores  and  munitions  of  war,  or  by  arresting  their  leaders. 
That  such  attempts  on  the  part  of  the  British  were  reason 
able  enough,  provided  that  they  both  expected  and  de- 


THE   FIRST   BLOW 


27 


sired  hostilities,  no  one  can  deny.  If  one  wishes  to  ex 
plode  a  powder-magazine,  it  is  sensible  to  fire  the  train 
which  leads  to  it.  But  if  one  does  not  desire  to  explode 


CONCORD  BRIDGE  A  T  THE  PRESENT  TIME. 

gunpowder,  it  is  prudent  not  to  throw  lighted  matches 
about  in  its  immediate  neighborhood.  The  British  acted 
on  the  superficial  aspect  of  the  case,  without  considering 
ultimate  possibilities  and  results.  They  kept  lighting 


28  THE  STORY   OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

matches  to  see  whether  the  explosive  substances  under 
their  charge  were  all  right,  and  finally  they  dropped  one  in 
the  magazine.  Poor  Gage  and  the  rest  of  the  English 
commanders  in  Massachusetts  are  not  to  be  much  blamed 
for  what  they  did.  They  were  a  set  of  commonplace, 
mediocre  men,  without  imagination  and  without  knowl 
edge,  suddenly  called  upon  to  deal  with  what  they  thought 
was  a  little  case  of  rather  obstinate  disorder  and  bad  tem 
per  in  a  small  colony,  but  which  was  really  a  great  force 
just  stirring  into  life,  and  destined  to  shake  continents  and 
empires  before  its  course  was  stayed.  Small  wonder,  then, 
that  they  dealt  with  a  great  problem  in  a  little  wrong- 
headed  conventional  way,  and  reached  the  results  which 
are  to  be  expected  when  men  trifle  with  world-forces  in 
that  careless  and  stupid  fashion. 

Thus  Gage,  even  before  Congress  had  assembled,  sent 
over  to  Quarry  Hill,  near  Boston,  and  seized  cannons  and 
stores.  Thereupon  armed  crowds  in  Cambridge  next  day, 
tumult  and  disorder  in  the  streets,  the  Lieutenant-Gov- 
ernor,  Oliver,  forced  to  resign,  and  bloodshed  prevented 
only  by  Joseph  Warren,  summoned  in  haste  from  Boston. 
Reported  in  Philadelphia,  this  affair  took  on  the  form  of 
fighting  and  bloodshed  near  Boston,  and  the  chaplain  of 
Congress  read  from  the  Psalm :  "  Lord,  how  long  wilt 
thou  look  on  ?  Stir  up  thyself,  and  awake  to  my  judg 
ment,  even  unto  my  cause,  my  God  and  my  Lord." 
Worth  considering,  this  little  incident,  if  there  had  been 
men  able  to  do  so  in  England  at  that  moment.  To  those 
who  had  attentive  ears  and  minds  there  was  an  echo  there 
of  the  words  of  the  great  Puritan  captain  at  Dunbar, 
speaking  in  a  way  very  memorable  to  the  world  of  Eng 
land.  When  men  of  English  blood  side  by  side  with  the 


THE   FIRST   BLOW  29 

children  of  the  Huguenots  and  the  sons  of  Scotch  Cov 
enanters  and  of  the  men  of  Londonderry  begin  to  pray 
after  that  fashion,  a  dangerous  spirit  is  abroad  and  one 
not  lightly  to  be  tampered  with. 

Gage,  knowing  and  caring  nothing  about  prayers  or 
anything  else  at  Philadelphia,  but  annoyed  by  the  out 
break  at  Cambridge,  felt  in  his  dull  way  that  something 
was  wrong,  and  began  to  fortify  Boston  Neck.  Some 
how  he  could  not  get  his  work  done  very  well.  He  had 
his  barges  sunk,  his  straw  fired,  his  wagons  mired,  all  in 
unexplained  ways,  and  the  works  were  not  finished  until 
November.  At  the  same  time  his  movements  excited 
alarm  and  suspicion,  not  only  in  Boston,  but  elsewhere. 
In  December  the  cannon  were  taken  away  at  Newport  by 
the  Governor,  so  that  the  British  could  not  get  them.  A 
little  later  the  people  at  Portsmouth,  N.  H.,  entered  the 
fort  and  carried  off,  for  their  own  use  and  behoof,  the  guns 
and  the  powder. 

The  trouble  was  spreading  ominously  and  evidently. 
Massachusetts  for  her  part  knew  now  that  the  continent 
was  behind  her,  and  the  Provincial  Congress  in  February 
declared  their  wish  for  peace  and  union,  but  advised  prep 
aration  for  war.  How  much  effect  the  wishes  had  can 
not  be  said,  but  the  advice*  at  least  was  eagerly  followed. 
The  people  of  Salem,  in  pursuance  of  the  injunction,  be 
gan  to  mount  cannon,  and  Gage  thereupon  sent  three 
hundred  men  to  stop  the  work.  The  town  was  warned  in 
time.  A  great  crowd  met  the  soldiers  at  the  bridge,  and 
Colonel  Leslie,  shrinking  from  the  decisive  step,  with 
drew.  It  was  a  narrow  escape.  Soldiers  and  people  had 
come  face  to  face  and  had  looked  in  each  others'  eyes, 
The  conflict  was  getting  very  close. 


30  THE  STORY   OF  THE  REVOLUTION 


THE    OLD   BUG  KM  AN   TAVERN,  BUILT  ibqo. 

Stands  on  (he  edge  of  Lexington  Common.     It  was  here  that  the  Minute  Men  gathered  after  the  alarm  on  the 

night  before  the  fight. 

Again,  at  the  end  of  March,  Gage  sent  out  Lord 
Percy  with  some  light  troops,  who  marched  as  far  as 
Jamaica  Plain  and  returned.  The  Minute  Men  gathered, 
but  once  more  the  opposing  forces  stared  in  each  others' 
faces  and  parted  as  they  met.  The  Provincial  Congress 
adjourned  on  April  i5th.  Still  the  peace  was  unbroken, 
but  the  storm  was  near  at  hand.  British  officers  had  been 
scouring  the  country  for  information,  and  they  knew  that 
John  Hancock  and  Samuel  Adams  had  taken  refuge  in 


THE   FIRST   BLOW 


Lexington,  and  that  munitions  of  war  were  stored  at  Con 
cord,  a  few  miles  farther  on.  It  was  thereupon  determined 
to  seize  both  the  rebel  leaders  and  the  munitions  at  Con 
cord.  Other  expeditions  had  failed.  This  one  must  suc 
ceed.  All  should  be  done  in  secret,  and  the  advantage  of  a 
surprise  was  to  be  increased  by  the  presence  of  an  over 
whelming  force.  The  British  commander  managed  well. 

o  o 

but  not  quite  well  enough.  It  is  difficult  to  keep  military 
secrets  in  the  midst  of  an  attentive  people,  and  by  the 
people  themselves  the  discovery  was  made.  Paul  Revere 
had  some  thirty  mechanics  organ-  , 

ized  to  watch  and  report  the  move 
ments  of  the  British,  and  these  men 
now  became  convinced  that  an  ex 
pedition  was  on  foot,  and  one  of  a 
serious  character.     The  movement 
of  troops  and  boats  told  the  story 
to  watchers,   with   keen   eyes    and 
ears,  who  believed  that 
their   rights  wrere    in 
peril.     They  were  soon 
satisfied  that  the  expe 
dition  was  intended  for 
Lexington    and    Con 
cord,  to  seize  the  lead 
ers  and  the  stores;  and 
acting    promptly 
on    this    belief 
they  gave  notice 
to  their  chiefs  in 
Boston   and    de- 
termined     to 


THE  "OL.D--N6RT H- 


The    Signal    Lantcrr.s    of 

PAUL  REVERE 
difplsyed  in  the  ftctple  of  this  churc> 

April  18  1775 

wsrr.cd  fre  country  cf  the  march 
U   the  Bntifh    troops  ;0 

)    LEXINGTON  ^a  CONCORD. 


32  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

thwart  the   enemy's    plans    by    warning    and    rousing  the 
country. 

On  April  iSth,  Warren  sent  William  Dawes  by  land 
over  the  Neck  to  Roxbury  and  thence  to  Lexington  to 
carry  the  news.  Paul  Revere  arranged  to  have  lantern 
signals  shown  in  the  belfry  of  the  Old  North  Church, 
"  one  if  by  land,  and  two  if  by  sea,"  and  then  went  home, 
dressed  himself  for  a  night-ride,  and  taking  a  boat  rowed 
over  to  Charlestown.  It  was  a  beautiful  and  quiet  even 
ing.  As  his  boat  slipped  along  he  noted  that  the  Somerset 
man-of-war  was  just  winding  with  the  tide,  then  at  young 
flood.  The  moon  was  rising  and  shed  its  peaceful  light 
upon  the  scene.  Arrived  at  Charlestown,  Revere  secured 
a  horse  and  waited.  At  eleven  o'clock  two  lights  gleamed 
from  the  belfry  of  the  Old  North  Church,  showing  that 
the  troops  were  going  by  water  to  Cambridge,  and  Re 
vere  mounted  and  rode  away.  He  crossed  Charlestown 
Neck,  and  as  he  passed  the  spot  where  a  felon  had  been 
hung  in  chains,  he  saw  two  British  officers  waiting  to  stop 
him.  One  tried  to  head  him,  one  sought  to  take  him. 
But  Revere  knew  his  country.  He  turned  back  sharply 
and  then  swung  into  the  Medford  road.  His  pursuer  fell 
into  a  clay-pit  and  Revere  rode  swiftly  to  Medford, 
warned  the  captain  of  the  Minute  Men,  and  then  galloped 
on,  rousing  every  house  and  farm  and  village  until  he 
reached  Lexington.  There  he  awakened  Adams  and 
Hancock  and  was  joined  by  Dawes  and  by  Dr.  Samuel 
Prescott.  After  a  brief  delay  the  three  started  to  alarm 
the  country  between  Lexington  and  Concord.  They  had 
ridden  but  a  short  distance  when  they  were  met  by  four 
British  officers  who  barred  the  road.  Prescott  jumped  his 
horse  over  a  stone  wall  and  escaped,  carrying  the  alarm  to 


THE   FIRST   BLOW 


33 


PAUL   REVERE  ROUSING    THE  INHABITANTS  ALONG   THE  ROAD    TO 
LEXINGTON. 

Concord.  Revere  rode  toward  a  wood,  when  six  more 
British  officers  appeared  and  he  was  made  a  prisoner  and 
forced  to  return  with  Dawes  and  his  captors  to  Lexington. 
There  he  was  released,  and  as  soon  as  he  was  free  he  per- 

Vou  I.— 3 


34 


THE  STORY   OF  THE  REVOLUTION 


suaded  Adams  and  Hancock  to  go  to  Woburn,  and  after 
accompanying  them  returned  to  get  their  papers  and 
effects.  As  he  was  engaged  in  this  work  he  heard  firing, 

and  the  sound  told  him  that 
he  had  not  ridden  through 
the  night  in  vain.  A  mem 
orable  ride  in  truth  it  was, 
one  which  spread  alarm  at  the 
time  and  has  been  much  sung 
and  celebrated  since.  Perhaps 
the  fact  which  is  best  worth  re 
membering  is  that  it  was  well 
done  and  answered  its  purpose. 
Under  the  April  moonlight, 
Revere  and  Dawes  and  Pres- 
cott  galloped  hard  and  fast. 
Brave  men,  and  efficient,  they 
defeated  the  British  plans  and 
warned  the  country.  The  new  day,  just  dawning  when 
Revere  heard  the  firing,  was  to  show  the  value  of  their 
work. 

They  had  had,  indeed,  but  little  time  to  spare.  As 
Revere  was  mounting  his  horse,  Lieutenant-Colonel  Smith, 
with  eight  hundred  men,  was  crossing  the  Back  Bay  from 
Boston  to  Lechmere  Point.  At  two  o'clock  he  had  his 
men  landed,  and  they  set  forth  at  once,  silently  and  rapidly, 
toward  Lexington.  So  far  all  had  gone  well,  but  as  they 
marched  there  broke  upon  their  ears  the  sound  of  guns  and 
bells,  some  near,  some  distant,  but  in  every  one  the  note 
of  alarm.  The  country  was  not  asleep,  then  ?  On  the 
contrary,  it  seemed  to  be  wide  awake.  All  about  among 
the  hills  and  meadows  armed  men  were  gathered  at  the 


PAUL   REVERE,    BY  ST.   MEMIN, 
1804. 


THE   FIRST   BLOW  35 

little  meeting-houses,  and  falling  into  line  prepared  for 
action.  Here,  in  the  tolling  of  the  bells  and  the  sound 
of  signal-guns,  was  much  meaning  and  cause  for  anxiety. 
Colonel  Smith  became  worried,  sent  back  to  Boston  for 
reinforcements  to  beat  these  farmers  at  whom  he  and  his 
friends  had  scoffed  so  often,  and  ordered  Major  Pitcairn 
forward  to  Lexington  with  six  light  companies,  still  hopeful 
of  surprise.  Major  Pitcairn  picks  up  everybody  he  meets, 
to  prevent  alarm  being  given  ;  but  one  Bowman,  an  active 
and  diligent  person,  as  it  would  seem,  and  a  brave  soldier  of 
the  last  French  war,  eludes  him,  rides  hotly  to  Lexington,  and 
warns  the  Minute  Men,  who  have  been  waiting  since  two- 
o'clock,  and  had  almost  come  to  believe  that  the  British 
were  not  advancing  at  all.  So  when  Major  Pitcairn  got 
to  Lexington  Green,  about  half  past  four,  thanks  to  Bow 
man's  warning,  there  were  some  sixty  or  seventy  men  as 
sembled  to  meet  him.  "  Disperse,  ye  rebels  ;  disperse  !  " 
cried  Major  Pitcairn,  and  rode  toward  them.  There  was 
much  discussion  then,  and  there  has  been  much  more  since, 
as  to  who  fired  first.  It  matters  not.  It  is  certain  that 
the  British  poured  in 
a  volley  and  followed 
it  up  with  others.  The 
Minute  Men,  not  yet 
realizing  that  the  de 
cisive  m  o  m  e  n  t  had  MAJOR  PITCAIRN,S  PISTOLS. 
come,  hesitated,  some  These  Pistois -were  taken  from  p^aim^  ho™,  an*  a  few  days  af. 

.  .  .  teriuard  -were  presented  to  Israel  Putnam,  who  carried  them 

Standlllg    their    grOUnd,  throughout  the  -war.       Later  they  -were  presented  to  the  Cary 

Library,  and  are  now  in  the  Town  Hall  at  Lexington. 

some  scattering.    They 

fired  a  few  straggling  shots,  wounded  a  couple  of  British 
soldiers,  and  drew  off.  Eight  Americans  were  killed  and 
ten  wounded.  One  of  the  eight  had  carried  the  standard 


36  THE  STORY   OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

when  American  troops  captured  Louisburg,  and  thus  re 
deemed  for  England  an  otherwise  ineffective  war.  One 
was  wounded  and  bayoneted  afterward.  One  dragged 
himself  to  the  door  of  his  house  and  died  on  the  threshold 
at  his  wife's  feet.  What  matters  it  who  fired  first  ?  The 
first  blow  had  been  struck,  the  first  blood  shed.  The  peo- 


HARRINGTON  HOUSE,   LEXINGTON. 

In  the  foreground,  on  the  Common,  is  a  large  stone  marking  the  line  of  the  Minute  Men.    Jonathan  Harrington, 
after  being  shot,  dragged  himself  to  his  doorstep  and  there  died  at  his  wife's  feet. 


pie,  in  obedience  to  the  orders  of  a  Provincial  Congress, 
had  faced  the  soldiers  of  England  in  arms.  They  had 
been  fired  upon  and  had  returned  the  fire.  It  was  not  a 
battle,  hardly  a  skirmish.  But  it  said  to  all  the  world  that 
a  people  intended  to  govern  themselves,  and  would  die 
sooner  than  yield  ;  a  very  pregnant  fact,  speaking  much 
louder  than  words  and  charged  with  many  meanings.  A 
wholly  new  thing  this  was  indeed,  to  have  people  ready  to 


THE   FIRST   BLOW 


39 


die  in  battle  for  their  rights,  when  a  large  part  of  the  rulers 
of  the  civilized  world  did  not  recognize  that  they  had  any 
rights  to  either  die  or  live  for.  A  great  example  to  be 
deeply  considered,  and  destined  to  bear  much  fruit,  was 
given  by  those  brave  men  who  died  on  Lexington  Green 
in  the  fair  dawn  of  that  April  morning. 

The  British  formed  after  the  encounter,  fired  a  volley, 


GENERAL   VIEW  OF  LEXINGTON  COMMON  AT  THE  PRESENT  TIME. 

and  gave  three  cheers  for  their  victory.  If  a  victory  is  to 
be  judged  by  what  it  costs,  it  must  be  admitted  that  this 
one  was  but  modestly  celebrated,  for  it  is  safe  to  say  that 
it  was  the  most  expensive  victory  ever  won  by  England. 
From  another  point  of  view  the  celebration  was  premature, 
for  the  day  was  not  over  and  there  was  still  much  to  be 
done. 

The  English  soldiers   had  killed   some    Massachusetts 
farmers,  but  they  had  missed  the  rebel  leaders  at  Lexing- 


40  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

ton.  No  time  was  to  be  lost  if  they  were  to  carry  out  the 
second  part  of  their  mission  and  destroy  the  stores  at 
Concord.  Thither,  therefore,  they  marched  as  rapidly  as 
possible.  Colonel  Smith,  a  little  disturbed  by  the  fighting 
on  Lexington  Green,  and  still  more  anxious  as  to  the 
future,  not  liking  the  looks  of  things,  perhaps,  was  wonder- 


LORD  PERCY. 

Whose  timely  arrival  relieved  the  British  troops  under  Colonel  Smith 
From  a  print  lent  by  IV.  C.  Crane. 

ing,  no  doubt,  whether  they  were  sending  from  Boston  the 
aid  he  had  sent  for.  His  messenger,  if  he  could  have 
known  it,  was  safely  in  Boston  at  that  moment,  and  Gage 
gave  heed  at  once  to  the  appeal.  There  were  blunders  and 
delays,  but,  nevertheless,  between  eight  and  nine  o'clock, 
Lord  Percy,  with  about  a  thousand  men — soldiers  and 
marines — was  marching  out  of  Boston.  A  boy  named 
Harrison  Gray  Otis,  destined  to  much  distinction  in  later 


THE   FIRST   BLOW  41 

years,  was  delayed  in  getting  to  school  that  morning  by 
the  troops  marching  along  Tremont  Street.  He  reached 
the  Latin  School  in  time,  however,  to  hear  Lovell,  the 
schoolmaster,  say,  "  War's  begun.  School's  done.  Dimit- 
tite  libros"  and  then  rush  out  with  his  fellows  to  see  the 
red-coats  disappear  in  the  direction  of  the  Neck.  War 
was  in  the  air.  No  news  of  Lexington  had  yet  come,  but 
it  was  a  popular  revolution  which  was  beginning,  and  the 
popular  instinct  knew  that  the  hour  had  struck.  When 
the  British  reached  Roxbury,  Williams,  the  schoolmaster 
there,  like  Lovell  in  Boston,  dismissed  the  school,  locked 
the  door,  joined  the  minute-men,  and  served  for  seven  years 
in  the  American  army  before  returning  to  his  home.  As 
Lord  Percy  rode  along  the  band  played  "  Yankee  Doodle," 
and  a  boy  shouted  and  laughed  at  him  from  the  side  of  the 
road.  Lord  Percy  asked  him  what  he  meant,  and  the  boy 
replied,  "  To  think  how  you  will  dance  by  and  by  to  'Chevy 
Chase.'  "  *  The  contemporary  witness  who  chronicles  this 
little  incident  for  us  says  the  repartee  stuck  to  Lord  Percy 
all  day.  One  cannot  help  wondering  whether  it  made 
certain  lines  like  these  run  in  his  head  : 

"  The  child  that  is  unborn  shall  rue 
The  hunting  of  that  day." 

Again  it  is  the  voice  of  the  people,  of  the  schoolmaster 
and  his  scholars,  of  the  boys  in  the  street.  Very  trivial 
seemingly  all  this  at  the  moment,  yet  with  much  real  mean 
ing  for  those  who  were  engaged  in  bringing  on  the  con- 

*  There  is  no  doubt  that  the  band  played  "  Yankee  Doodle  "  in  derision,  but  the 
boy's  answer  is  so  very  apt,  and  apt  for  Lord  Percy  above  all  other  men  on  earth,  that 
it  seems  as  if  it  must  be  an  invention.  Yet  we  have  it  from  Dr.  Gordon,  a  Contem 
porary  on  the  spot,  writing  down  all  incidents  at  the  moment,  and  he  was  a  pains 
taking,  intelligent  chronicler. 


42  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

flict,  if  they  had  been  able  to  interpret  it.  It  certainly  was 
not  heeded  or  thought  about  at  all  by  Lord  Percy  as  he 
marched  on  through  Roxbury,  whence,  swinging  to  the 
right  across  the  meadows  and  marshlands,  he  passed  over 
the  bridge  to  Cambridge,  and  thence  away  to  Lexington, 
along  the  route  already  taken  by  the  earlier  detachment. 


Where  -military  st 


BARRETT  HOUSE,  NEAR  CONCORD. 
were  secreted,  and  also  one  of  the  objective  points  of  the  expedition  under  Colonel  Smith. 


Meantime,  while  Lord  Percy  was  setting  out,  Smith 
and  his  men  got  to  Concord,  only  to  find  cannon  and 
stores,  for  the  most  part,  gone.  A  few  guns  to  be 
spiked,  the  court-house  to  be  set  on  fire,  some  barrels  of 
flour  to  be  broken  open,  made  up  the  sum  of  what  they 
were  able  to  do.  For  this  work  small  detachments  were 
sent  out.  One  went  to  the  North  Bridge,  had  in  fact 
crossed  over,  when  they  perceived,  on  the  other  side,  the 


THE   FIRST   BLOW 


45 


FLAG  CARRIED 
BY  THE  BED- 
FORD  MILI 
TIA  COMPANY 
AT  CONCORD 
BRIDGE. 

"  It  7uas originally  de 
signed  in  England  in  1660 
70  for    the    three    county 
troops    of  Middlesex,   and  be 
came  one  of  the  accepted  stand- 


Minute  Men  who  had  assembled  to  guard  the  town,  and 
who  now  advanced,  trailing  their  guns.  The  British  with 
drew  to  their  own  side  of  the  bridge  and 
began  to  take  it  up.  Major  Buttrick  re 
monstrated  against  this  proceeding,  and 
ordered  his  men  to  quicken  their  step. 
As  they  approached  the  British  fired,  inef 
fectually  at  first,  then  with  closer  aim,  and 
two  or  three  Americans  fell.  Buttrick 
sprang  forward,  shouting,  "  Fire,  fellow- 
soldiers  !  For  God's  sake  fire!"  The 
moment  had  come  ;  the  Americans  fired, 
not  straggling  shots  now,  as  in  the  sur 
prise  at  Lexington,  but  intending  serious 
business.  Two  soldiers  were  killed  and 
several  wounded.  The  Americans  poured 
over  the  bridge,  the  British  retreated,  and 
the  Concord  fight  was  over.  The  shot, 
"  heard  round  the  world,"  had  been  fired 
to  good  purpose,  both  there  and  elsewhere.  It  echoed  far, 
that  shot  of  the  Concord  and  Acton  farmers,  not  because 
it  was  in  defence  of  the  principle  that  there  must  be  no  tax 
ation  without  representation,  not  even  because  it  portended 
the  independence  of  America,  but  because  it  meant,  as  those 
fired  on  Lexington  Common  meant,  that  a  people  had  aris 
en,  determined  to  fight  for  the  right  to  govern  themselves. 
It  meant  that  the  instinct  which  pressed  the  triggers  at  the 
North  Bridge  was  a  popular  instinct,  that  the  great  demo 
cratic  movement  had  begun,  that  a  new  power  had  arisen 
in  the  world,  destined,  for  weal  or  woe,  to  change  in  the 
coming  century  the  forms  of  government  and  of  society 
throughout  the  civilized  nations  of  the  West. 


of  the  State,  and  as  sitch  it 
was  used  by  the  Bedford  Com 
pany." 

WILLIAM  S.  APPLETO.V, 
Mass.  Hist.  Society. 


THE  STORY   OF  THE  REVOLUTION 


WRIGHT  TAVERN,    CONCORD,   AT  THE  PRESENT   TIME. 
Built  77.77.     Here  Major  Pitcairn  stopped  to  refresh  himself. 

After  the  British  retreated  from  the  bridge,  the  Minute 
Men,  not  quite  realizing  even  yet  what  had  happened,  drew 
back  to  the  hills  and  waited.  Colonel  Smith  wasted  some 
two  hours  in  concentrating  and  resting  his  men,  and  about 
noon  started  back  for  Lexington.  At  first  he  threw  out 
light  detachments  to  keep  his  flanks  clear,  but  by  the  time 
he  reached  Merriam's  Corner  they  were  forced  by  the 
nature  of  the  ground  back  to  the  main  line.  Then  the 
fighting  began  in  earnest.  From  all  the  surrounding  towns 
the  Minute  Men  were  pouring  in.  There  was  a  brush  with 
a  flanking  party  just  as  Merriam's  Corner  was  reached. 
Then  as  the  British  passed  along  the  road,  in  most  parts 
thickly  wooded,  from  every  copse  and  thicket  and  stone 
wall  the  shots  would  ring  out  with  deadly  effect,  for  the 
Americans  were  all  trained  to  the  use  of  the  rifle.  A  de- 


THE   FIRST   BLOW 


47 


tachment  would  be  thrown  out  to  clear  the  flank,  the 
enemy  would  scatter,  and  the  detached  soldiers  entangled 
in  the  brush  would  be  picked  off  more  easily  even  than  in 
the  road  itself.  The  Americans  seemed  "to  drop  from  the 
clouds,"  as  one  British  officer  wrote,  and  their  fire  came 


tp,^ 


/truf   pn 


/ 


RECEIPT  SIGNED  BY  THE    MINUTE  MEN  OF  IPSWICH,  MASS.,    WHO 
MARCHED  ON  THE  ALARM,   APRIL   ig,    1775. 


The  original  of  this  doci 


et  Collection  in  the  Lenox  Library. 


48 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 


upon  the  enemy  on  both  flanks,  from  the  rear,  and  even  in 
front.     These  Minute  Men,  in  fact,  were  now  waging  the 


kind  of  warfare  they  perfectly  understood.  Many  of  them 
had  served  in  the  old  French  war  ;  they  had  fought  the 
Indians  and  had  learned  from  their  savage  foe  how  to  slip 


THE   FIRST   BLOW  49 

from  tree  to  tree,  to  advance  under  cover,  fire,  and  retreat, 
each  man  acting  for  himself,  undisturbed  by  the  going  or 
coming  of  his  fellows,  and  free  from  any  danger  of  panic. 
In  a  word,  they  were  practising  backwoods  fighting  with 
deadly  effect  on  regular  troops  who  could  neither  under 
stand  nor  meet  it.  So  the  time  wore  on.  The  shots  from 
the  flanks  came  faster  and  faster,  officers  and  men  were 
dropping  beneath  the  deadly  fire,  the  ranks  were  breaking, 
and  only  the  desperate  efforts  of  the  officers  prevented  a 
panic  like  that  in  which  Braddock's  army  had  gone  down. 
On  through  the  pleasant  country  in  the  bright  spring  sun 
shine  they  went,  disorder  increasing,  men  falling,  ammuni 
tion  giving  out — a  fine  body  of  regular  and  disciplined 
troops  going  pitifully  and  visibly  to  wreck.  The  Lexington 
company,  out  again  in  force,  avenged  the  losses  of  the 
morning,  and  as  the  British  thus  beset  struggled  on,  they 
came  again  to  the  famous  common  where  they  had  cele 
brated  their  sunrise  victory.  No  thought  of  victories  now, 
only  of  safety  ;  and  here,  at  least,  was  relief.  Here  was 
Lord  Percy  with  his  fresh  brigade,  and  into  the  square 
which  he  had  formed  Smith's  hunted  men  rushed  wildly 
and  flung  themselves  down  on  the  ground,  utterly  ex 
hausted,  with  their  tongues  out,  says  the  British  historian 
Stedman,  "  like  dogs  after  a  chase."  Here,  moreover,  the 
Americans  were  at  a  disadvantage,  for  it  was  an  open  space, 
and  Lord  Percy's  cannon  soon  cleared  the  ground,  while 
his  men  set  fire  to  the  houses.  The  Americans  drew  off 
and  waited.  They  had  only  to  be  patient,  for  they  knew 
their  time  would  come  again. 

Lord  Percy,  although  he  had  now  nearly  eighteen  hun 
dred  men,  made  no  attempt  to  attack  the  Americans,  who 
were  waiting  quietly  just  out  of  range.  After  a  brief 

VOL.  L— 4 


50  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

period  of  rest  he  gave  the  word  and  the  troops  took  up 
their  march  for  Boston.  As  soon  as  they  started  the 
Americans  closed  in,  and  the  fighting  began  again  in  front, 
behind,  and  on  both  flanks.  More  Minute  Men  had  come 
up,  more  were  constantly  arriving.  There  would  be  heavy 
firing  and  sharp  fighting,  then  the  cannon  would  be  swung 
round,  then  a  lull  would  follow,  then  more  firing  and  fight 
ing,  until  the  cannon  lost  their  terror,  while  the  firing  grew 
constantly  heavier  and  the  fighting  sharper.  There  was  no 
time  to  go  round  by  Cambridge,  as  they  had  come  in  the 
morning.  Lord  Percy  made  straight  for  Charlestown,  the 
nearest  point  of  safety,  and  the  worst  attack  fell  on  him 
just  before  he  reached  his  haven  and  got  his  columns,  now 


GRAVE   OF  BRITISH  SOLDIERS,   NEAR    THE  BRIDGE  AT  CONCORD. 

broken  and  running,  under  the  guns  of  the  men-of-war.  At 
last  the  day  was  done — Lexington  and  Concord  had  had 
their  battles  and  taken  their  place  in  history. 

When  the  story  of  April   19,  1775,  is  told,  we  are  apt 


THE   FIRST   BLOW 


to  think  only  of  the  firing  at  sun 
rise  on  Lexington  Green,  and  of 
the  slight  skirmish  at  the  old 
North  Bridge  in  Concord.  We 
are  prone  to  forget  that  apart 
from  these  two  dramatic  points 
there  was  a  good  deal  of  severe 
fighting  during  that  memorable 
day.  A  column  of  regular  Eng 
lish  troops,  at  first  800,  then  1,800 
strong,  had  marched  out  to  Con 
cord  and  Lexington,  and  back  to 
Boston,  and  had  met  some  hun 
dreds  of  irregular  soldiers,  at  best 
militia.  They  retreated  before 
these  Minute  Men  for  miles,  and 
reached  Boston  in  a  state  not  far 
removed  from  rout  and  panic. 
The  running  fight  had  not  been 
child's  play  by  any  means.  The 
Americans  lost  88  men  killed 
and  wounded  ;  the  British  247, 
besides  26  missing  or  prisoners. 
These  were  serious  figures.  Evi 
dently  the  British  officers,  who  in  the  morning  of  that 
day  thought  the  Americans  had  neither  courage  nor  res 
olution,  would  have  to  revise  their  opinions,  unless  they 
were  ready  for  further  disasters.  But  more  important 
*than  the  views  of  British  officers,  somewhat  tired  and  an 
noyed  that  evening  in  Boston,  was  the  fact  that  the 
American  fighting  had  been  done  by  the  people  themselves, 
on  the  spur  of  the  moment.  It  was  every  man  for  himself. 


THE    MINUTE    MAN  AT    CON 
CORD  BRIDGE. 


'el  C.  French,  Sculptor.) 


52  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

Heath  and  Warren  had  come  out  and  rallied  the  Minute 
Men  into  more  compact  bodies  here  and  there,  but  it  was 
the  Minute  Men's  fight.  A  common  instinct  moved  those 
Middlesex  yeomen,  and  it  appeared  that  they  were  ready  on 
their  own  account  to  take  up  arms  and  fight  in  their  back 
woods  fashion  hard  and  effectively.  Here  was  a  fact  de 
serving  much  pondering  from  kings  and  ministers,  who,  it 
is  to  be  feared,  gave  it  but  little  heed,  and  certainly  failed 
either  to  understand  it  or  to  fathom  its  deep  meaning  for 
them,  their  empire,  and,  in  certain  wider  aspects,  for  man 
kind. 


CHAPTER    III 

THE    SECOND   CONGRESS 

THE  Massachusetts  farmers  had  precipitated  the  cri 
sis.  They  had  fought  the  British  troops  and  now 
held  them  besieged  in  Boston.  Connecticut  and 
New  Hampshire  had  sustained  them  with  men  sent  to  share 
in  the  perils  of  the  time  and  help  to  lay  siege  to  the  British 
army.  Then  came  the  anxious  question  as  to  how  the  rest 
of  the  country  would  look  upon  what  had  been  done. 
Hitherto  the  other  colonies  had  sympathized  with  the 
Eastern  people  strongly,  and  thus  far  had  cordially  sup 
ported  them  ;  but  there  was  a  powerful  party,  especially  in 
the  Middle  States,  who  disliked  the  actions  and  suspected 
the  intentions  of  the  New  Englanders,  and  who  were 
strongly  averse  to  independence  or  to  any  breach  with  the 
mother-country.  How  would  these  other  colonies  act 
now  ?  Would  they  still  stand  by  Massachusetts,  or  would 
they  recoil  in  alarm  when  blood  had  been  shed  and  posi 
tive  action  one  way  or  the  other  was  no  longer  to  be 
avoided  ?  With  these  questions  upon  them  the  Provincial 
Congress  of  Massachusetts  drew  up  an  official  account  of 
the  events  of  April  igth  and  sent  one  copy  to  England, 
where  the  news  caused  stocks  to  fall  and  startled  Lord 
North,  who  had  intelligence  and  perceptions  denied  to  his 
master,  while  another  was  despatched  by  express  through 

53 


54  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

all  the  other  colonies  to  South  Carolina.  A  momentous 
deed  had  been  done,  and  the  anxiety  of  the  doers  thereof  is 
shown  by  the  manner  in  which  this  official  narrative  was 
hurried  away  to  the  southward.  The  Massachusetts  dele 
gates  who  set  out  for  Philadelphia  within  a  fortnight  after 
the  Lexington  and  Concord  fight  may  well  have  been 
beset  with  doubts  and  fears  as  to  the  reception  which 
awaited  them  in  Congress. 

Samuel  and  John  Adams  again  led  the  delegation,  but 
to  their  little  company  was  now  added  a  man  destined  to 
become  one  of  the  best-known  names  of  the  Revolution, 
although  as  an  efficient  and  effective  actor  his  part  was 
small.  Rich,  well-born,  and  generous  in  expense,  John 
Hancock,  almost  alone  among  the  men  of  wealth,  family, 
and  office  who  then  formed  the  aristocracy  of  Boston,  had 
-espoused  openly  the  side  of  opposition  to  Great  Britain. 
Samuel  Adams,  shrewd  judge  and  manager  of  men,  cul 
tivated  his  friendship,  flattered  his  vanity,  and  employed 
him  to  excellent  purpose.  Here  he  had  him  now  in  his 
company  as  a  Member  of  Congress,  and  we  shall  see  pres 
ently  how  he  used  him  there.  So  the  Massachusetts 
delegates,  thus  reinforced,  journeyed  on  together  through 
Connecticut.  There  they  already  knew  that  all  was  safe 
and  sympathetic.  It  was  when  they  drew  near  the  Hud 
son  that  the  real  anxiety  began.  But  it  came  only  to  be 
dispelled,  for  as  they  approached  New  York  they  were  met 
by  a  company  of  grenadiers,  by  a  regiment  of  militia,  by 
carriages,  and  by  hundreds  of  men  on  foot.  As  they 
passed  along  into  the  town  the  roads  and  streets  were  lined 
with  people  who  cheered  them  loudly,  while  the  bells  of 
the  churches  rang  out  a  joyful  peal  of  welcome.  They 
were  heroes,  it  appeared,  not  culprits.  The  people  were 


JOHN  HANCOCK. 

Engra-vedjrom  the  for  trait  fainted  by  Copley  in  1774-     Xo-w  in  possession  oj  the  Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts. 


THE  SECOND  CONGRESS  57 

with  them  here  as  in  New  England,  and  when  they  left 
the  city  they  were  escorted  again  by  the  militia,  and  again 
the  crowds  cheered  them  on  their  way.  So  it  was  all 
through  New  Jersey  to  Philadelphia.  Honors  and  rejoic 
ings  met  them  everywhere.  The  people  of  the  sister  colo 
nies  stood  firmly  by  Massachusetts  in  striking  the  first 
blow. 

The  second  Congress  met  on  May  loth.  The  leaders 
of  the  first  were  again  there — Washington,  Henry,  Lee, 
Jay,  and  the  two  Adamses.  With  them,  too,  were  some 
new  men  already  distinguished  or  destined  to  win  reputa 
tion.  Chief  among  these  new  members  was  Benjamin 
Franklin,  the  most  famous  American  then  living,  known 
throughout  Europe  for  his  scientific  discoveries  ;  known  in 
England  besides  as  the  fearless  champion  of  the  colonies  ; 
great  in  science  and  in  statecraft  ;  a  statesman  and  diplo 
matist  ;  a  man  of  letters  and  a  popular  writer,  whose  wit 
and  wisdom  were  read  in  many  tongues  ;  just  returned 
from  London,  and  the  wisest  and  most  influential  man  in 
the  Congress.  It  is  worth  while  to  pause  a  moment  to  look 
at  Franklin,  standing  forth  now  as  a  leader  of  revolution, 
for  he  was  one  of  the  great  men  of  the  century.  He  was 
then  in  his  seventieth  year,  but  vigorous  and  keen  as  ever 
in  mind  and  body.  He  could  have  done  more  than  any 
other  one  man  to  prevent  colonial  revolt,  for  he  was  emi 
nently  conservative  and  peace-loving,  as  well  as  truly  loyal 
to  the  mother-country.  The  ministry,  who  would  have 
listened  to  him  and  been  guided  by  him,  would  have  held 
America,  and  fastened  it  tighter  than  ever  to  the  Empire. 
Instead  of  this,  official  England  set  her  Solicitor-General 
to  vilify  and  abuse  him  in  the  presence  of  the  Privy  Coun 
cil  and  before  the  English  people.  Franklin  listened  in 


58  THE  STORY   OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

silence  to  the  invective  then  heaped  upon  him,  and  the 
most  powerful  friend  to  peace,  union,  and  conciliation  was 
lost  to  England.  Now  he  had  come  back  to  guide  his 
countrymen  among  the  dangers  which  beset  them,  and  to 
win  allies  for  them  from  beyond  seas.  In  the  man  of 
science,  letters,  and  philanthropy  we  are  apt  to  lose  sight 
of  the  bold  statesman  and  great  diplomatist.  We  always 
think  of  that  familiar  face  with  the  fine  forehead  and  the 
expression  of  universal  benevolence.  But  there  was  another 
aspect.  Look  at  the  picture  of  Franklin  where  the  fur  cap 
is  pulled  down  over  his  head.  The  noble  brow  is  hidden, 
the  pervading  air  of  soft  and  gentle  benevolence  has  faded, 
and  a  face  of  strength  and  power,  of  vigorous  will  and  of 
an  astuteness  rarely  equalled,  looks  out  at  us  and  fixes  our 
attention.  This  versatile  genius,  in  whom  the  sternness  of 
the  Puritan  mingled  with  the  scepticism  and  tolerance  of 
the  eighteenth-century  philosopher,  was  not  one  to  be 
lightly  reviled  and  abused.  It  would  have  been  well  for 
Wedderburn,  who,  at  his  death,  in  the  words  of  his  affec 
tionate  sovereign,  "  left  no  greater  knave  behind  him,"  if 
he  had  not  added  to  the  list  of  ministerial  blunders  that  of 
making  an  enemy  of  Franklin.  All  these  incidents  which 
had  befallen  him  in  London  were  as  well  known  as  Frank 
lin's  fame  in  science  and  his  distinction  in  the  public  ser 
vice,  and  we  can  easily  imagine  how  he  was  looked  up  to 
in  America,  and  how  men  turned  to  him  when  he  appeared 
in  Congress.  He  was  the  great  figure  at  this  second  gath 
ering,  but  not  the  only  one  among  the  new  members  who 
deserved  remark.  From  Massachusetts  came,  as  has  been 
said,  John  Hancock,  and  from  New  York  George  Clinton 
and  Robert  Livingston,  who  were  to  play  conspicuous  parts 
in  the  Revolution  and  in  the  early  years  of  the  new  nation 


THE  SECOND  CONGRESS  59 

which  sprang  from  it,  while  a  little   later  Virginia    sent 
Thomas  Jefferson  to  fill  a  vacant  place. 

Never  indeed  was  the  best  ability  of  the  country  more 
needed,  for  events  had  moved  fast  in  the  six  months  which 
had  elapsed  since  the  first  Congress  adjourned.  War  had 
broken  out,  and  this  second  Congress  found  itself  facing 
realities  of  the  sternest  kind.  Yet  the  members  were 
merely  delegates,  chosen  only  to  represent  the  views  and 
wishes  of  the  colonies  in  regard  to  their  relations  with 
Great  Britain.  Beyond  this  they  had  no  authority. 
Many  of  them  had  been  irregularly  elected  by  popular 
meetings.  Their  instructions  varied,  but  none  empowered 
them  to  form  a  government.  They  had  not  a  square  foot 
of  territory  which  they  could  control  ;  they  had  no  execu 
tive  powers  ;  no  money  ;  no  authority  to  make  laws,  and 
no  means  to  carry  them  out.  And  yet  the  great  forces 
were  moving,  and  they  had  to  face  facts  which  demanded 
a  vigorous  and  efficient  government. 

Even  as  they  met  on  May  loth  a  British  fortress  had 
been  seized  by  the  colonists,  for  Lexington  and  Concord 
had  set  in  motion  a  force  which,  once  started,  could 
neither  be  stayed  nor  limited.  The  first  military  and  polit 
ical  object  of  England  when  actual  war  came  obviously 
would  be  to  divide  New  England  from  the  middle  colonies 
by  controlling  the  line  of  the  Hudson  River  to  the  lakes 
lying  on  the  borders  of  Vermont  and  New  York.  The 
key  of  the  position  was  the  fortress  at  Ticonderoga  which 
commanded  the  lakes,  and  in  this  way  the  road  from 
Canada  to  New  York  Harbor.  Very  early  in  the  troubles 
the  New  England  leaders  saw  this  situation,  and  when  the 
conflict  broke  they  moved  quickly.  Adams  and  Hancock 
counselled  with  the  Governor  of  Connecticut  and  sent 


6o 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 


an  express  to  Ethan  Allen  in  the  Green  Mountains  to 
prepare  to  seize  the  fort.  Then  some  fifty  men  went  for 
ward  from  Connecticut  and  Massachusetts  and  met  Ethan 
Allen  at  Bennington.  An  alarm  was  sent  out,  about  a 
hundred  hardy  men  from  the  mountains  joined  the  de 
tachment  from  the  South,  Allen  was  chosen  leader,  and 


THE    RUINS    OF    TICONDEROGA,  LOOKING    NORTHWEST,    SHOWING    THE    RE 
MAINS  OF  THE  BASTION  AND  BARRACKS. 

on  May  8th  they  started.  The  night  of  May  gth  they 
were  near  the  fort,  and  waited  for  the  day  to  come.  When 
the  first  faint  flush  of  light  appeared,  Allen  asked  every 
man  who  was  willing  to  go  with  him  to  poise  his  gun. 
Every  gun  was  raised.  Allen  gave  the  word  and  they 
marched  to  the  entrance  of  the  fort.  The  gate  was  shut, 
but  the  wicket  open.  The  sentry  snapped  his  fuzee,  and 
Allen,  followed  by  his  men,  dashed  in  through  the  wicket, 


THE    CAPTURE    OF    TICONDEROGA    BY   ETHAN   ALLEN. 
There  7vas  but  little  resistance,  and  the  sentries,  after  one  or  two  shots,  threw  down  their  arms. 


THE  SECOND  CONGRESS  63 

raised  the  Indian  war-whoop  and  formed  on  the  parade, 
covering  the  barracks  on  each  side.  There  was  but  little 
resistance,  and  the  sentries,  after  one  or  two  shots,  threw 
down  their  arms,  while  Allen  strode  forward  toward  the 
quarters  of  the  commandant.  As  he  reached  the  door, 
Delaplace  appeared,  undressed,  and  Allen  demanded  the 
surrender  of  the  fort.  "  By  what  authority  ?  "  asked  Dela 
place.  "  In  the  name  of  the  great  Jehovah  and  the  Con 
tinental  Congress,"  answered  Allen.  No  stranger  military 
summons  was  ever  made,  with  its  queer  mingling  of  Puri 
tan  phrase  and  legal  form.  But  it  served  its  purpose 
better  than  many  an  elaborate  demand  framed  in  the  best 
style  of  Louis  the  Great,  for  it  was  perfectly  successful. 
The  fort  which  had  cost  England  several  campaigns,  many 
lives,  and  some  millions  of  pounds,  fell  into  the  hands  of 
the  Americans  in  ten  minutes.  The  reason  was  plain. 
The  Americans  were  quick-witted,  knew  the  enormous 
value  of  the  position,  and  acted  at  once.  Thus  by  a  sur 
prise  they  succeeded  ;  but  none  the  less  real  wisdom  lay 
behind  Allen's  prompt  and  vigorous  action.  As  a  military 
exploit  it  was  all  simple  enough  :  nerve  and  courage  at  the 
right  moment,  and  the  deed  was  done.  But  the  foresight 
which  planned  and  urged  the  deed  to  execution  showed 
military  and  political  sense  of  a  high  order.  Nor  was  that 
all.  Seth  Warner  seized  Crown  Point,  and  another  party 
took  possession  of  the  harbor  of  Skenesboro.  The  road 
from  Canada  to  New  York  was  now  in  the  hands  of  the 
Americans,  a  fact  fruitful  of  consequences  when  a  battle 
which  has  been  set  down  as  one  of  the  decisive  battles  of 
the  world  was  to  be  fought  a  few  years  later.  Important, 
too,  were  the  two  hundred  cannon  taken  in  Ticonderoga 
and  destined  to  play  an  essential  part  a  few  months  later 


64 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 


in  driving  the  British  from  their  first  military  foothold 
in  America.  Altogether  a  brave  deed,  this  of  Allen  and 
his  mountain  men ;  very  punctually  and  thoroughly  per 
formed,  and  productive  of  abundant  results,  as  is  usually 
the  case  with  efficient  action,  which,  without  criticism, 


A    NEAR    VIEW  OF  THE  RUINS   OF  THE   OFFICERS' 
QUARTERS  AT  TICONDEROGA. 


Ground  Plan   Showing-  Ba 


entered  is  al 


*AT£     carpings,  or  doubts,  drives  straight  on  at 

cated.  ,  ,  ,  .  , 

the  goal  to  be  attained. 
While  Ethan  Allen  and  his  men  were  thus  hurrying 
events  forward  in  their  own  rough-and-ready  fashion  that 
pleasant  May  morning,  the  members  of  the  second  Con 
gress  were  meeting  in  Philadelphia.  They  knew  nothing 
of  what  was  happening  far  to  the  north,  or  of  how  the 
men  of  the  Green  Mountains  were  forcing  them  on  to 
measures  and  responsibilities  from  which  they  still  shrank, 
and  which  they  had  not  yet  put  into  words.  They  would 


THE  SECOND  CONGRESS  65 

learn  it  all  soon  enough  from  messengers  hurrying  south 
ward  from  Ticonderoga,  but  they  already  had  ample  food 
for  thought  without  this  addition.  The  King  and  his 
Ministers  had  rejected  and  flouted  their  appeals  sent 
to  England  six  months  before,  and  had  decided  on 
fresh  measures  of  coercion.  Their  friends  in  Parliament 
had  been  beaten.  The  farmers  of  Massachusetts  had 
fought  the  King's  troops,  and  now  held  those  troops  be 
sieged  in  Boston  with  a  rough,  undisciplined  army.  Rec 
ognition,  reasonable  settlement,  mutual  concessions,  had 
drifted  a  good  deal  farther  off  than  when  they  last  met. 
If  the  situation  had  been  grave  in  1774,  it  was  infinitely 
graver  and  more  difficult  now.  How  were  they  to  deal 
with  it,  devoid  as  they  were  of  proper  powers  for  action 
and  still  anxious  to  remain  part  of  the  British  Empire  ? 
A  very  intricate  question  this,  but  they  faced  it  man 
fully. 

They  began,  as  before,  by  electing  Peyton  Randolph 
President,  and  when  shortly  afterward  he  was  called  home, 
they  went  from  Virginia  to  Massachusetts  for  his  succes 
sor.  The  use  of  John  Hancock  now  became  apparent, 
and  we  can  see  why  Samuel  Adams  had  brought  him 
from  Boston.  He  had  the  wealth,  the  position,  the  man 
ners  which  made  him  attractive  to  the  delegates  from  the 
other  colonies.  He  was  free  from  the  suspicion  of  being 
too  radical  and  dangerous,  which  clung  to  both  Samuel 
and  John  Adams,  despite  the  fact  of  his  association  with 
them.  He  was  dignified,  courtly,  well  known.  It  was 
very  important  to  Massachusetts,  which  had  ventured  so 
far  in  open  rebellion,  that  Congress  should  stand  by  her. 
To  have  the  President  of  the  Congress,  if  Virginia,  the 
other  strongly  resisting  colony,  did  not  furnish  that 

VOL.  I.— 5 


66  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

officer,  was  an  important  step.  In  itself  it  carried  sup 
port  and  approbation,  for  John  Hancock  was  a  proscribed 
man,  and  Benjamin  Harrison,  as  he  escorted  him  to  the 
chair,  said  they  would  show  Great  Britain  how  much  they 
cared  for  her  proscriptions.  Samuel  Adams  could  not 
have  been  elected  President,  John  Hancock  could  be  ; 
and  accordingly,  when  Randolph  withdrew,  he  was  chosen. 
He  was  an  excellent  presiding  officer  and  accustomed  to 
be  governed  and  guided  by  Adams.  His  election  meant 
that  the  party  of  firm  resistance  to  England,  whose  bul 
warks  were  Virginia  and  Massachusetts,  controlled  the 
Congress,  something  much  more  essential  to  them  now 
than  six  months  before.  Be  it  noted  also  that  to  fill  Ran 
dolph's  place  as  delegate  there  shortly  arrived  a  tall, 
rather  awkward-looking  young  man,  with  reddish  hair  and 
a  pleasant  face  and  look.  His  name  was  Thomas  Jeffer 
son,  and  although  he  proved  a  silent  member,  he  so  won 
upon  his  associates  that  he  was  placed  on  important  com 
mittees,  and  a  little  later  showed  that  if  he  would  not 
speak  in  public,  he  could  write  words  which  the  world 
would  read  and  future  generations  repeat.  Among  the 
delegates  who  came  late  we  must  also  remark  one  named 
Lyman  Hall,  from  the  parish  of  St.  John's  in  Georgia, 
where  there  was  a  New  England  settlement.  His  arrival 
completed  the  tale  of  the  American  Colonies.  The  thir 
teen  in  one  way  or  another  all  had  representation  in  the 
new  Congress.  The  union  of  the  colonies,  which  was  so 
dangerous  to  British  supremacy,  was  evidently  growing 
more  complete  and  perfect. 

The  work  of  organization  done,  the  Congress  faced 
the  situation,  and  solved  the  question  of  lack  of  authority 
by  boldly  assuming  all  necessary  executive  powers  as 


THE  SECOND   CONGRESS  67 

events  required.  In  committee  of  the  whole  they  re 
viewed  the  proceedings  in  Massachusetts,  and  then  ensued 
a  series  of  contradictions  very  characteristic  of  the  law- 
abiding  English  people,  and  reminding  one  strongly  of  a 
time  when  the  Long  Parliament  made  war  on  the  king  in 
the  king's  name.  These  colonial  Englishmen  resolved 
that  Great  Britain  had  begun  hostilities  and  at  the  same 
time  protested  their  loyalty.  They  declared  they  were  for 
peace,  advised  New  York  to  allow  the  British  troops  to 
be  landed  from  the  Asia,  and  then  voted  to  put  the  col 
onies  in  a  position  of  defence.  Under  the  lead  of  John 
Dickinson,  they  agreed  to  again  petition  the  king,  and 
authorized  addresses  to  the  people  of  England,  to  the 
people  of  Ireland,  and  to  their  fellow-colonists  of  Canada 
and  of  Jamaica.  When  the  news  of  Ticonderoga  came, 
they  decided  not  to  invade  Canada,  and  hesitated  even 
about  the  wisdom  of  holding  the  forts  they  had  taken. 
Then,  pushed  on  by  events,  they  proceeded  to  exercise 
the  highest  sovereign  powers  by  authorizing  a  small  loan 
and  organizing  an  army.  On  June  i5th,  John  Adams 
moved  that  they  adopt  the  army  then  at  Boston,  and,  rep 
resenting  New  England,  declared  that  the  head  of  that 
army  should  be  their  distinguished  colleague  from  Vir 
ginia,  who  thereupon  left  the  room.  The  proposition 
prevailed,  and  two  days  later,  on  the  motion  of  Mr.  John 
son  of  Maryland,  carrying  out  the  suggestion  of  John 
Adams,  they  formally  chose  George  Washington  to  com 
mand  what  was  henceforth  to  be  known  as  the  Conti 
nental  Army,  then  engaged  in  besieging  the  British  in 
Boston.  It  was  a  noble  choice,  one  worth  remembering, 
for  they  took  the  absolutely  greatest  and  fittest  man  in 
America,  a  feat  which  is  seldom  performed,  it  being  too 


68  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

often  left  to  events  to  throw  out  the  unfit  selections  made 
by  men  and  put  in  their  stead  those  to  whom  the  places 
really  belong. 

Washington  himself,  silently  watching  all  that  hap 
pened  with  the  keen  insight  which  never  was  at  fault, 
always  free  from  illusions,  and  recognizing  facts  with  a 
veracity  of  mind  which  was  never  clouded,  knew  well  that 
the  time  for  addresses  and  petitions  had  passed.  Averse 
as  he  had  been  to  independence  as  an  original  proposition, 
he  was  not  deceived  by  any  fond  fancies  in  regard  to  the 
present  situation,  which  had  developed  so  rapidly  in  a  few 
months.  War  had  begun,  and  that  meant,  as  he  well 
knew,  however  men  might  hesitate  about  it,  a  settlement 
by  war.  He  had  already  made  up  his  mind  fully  as  to  his 
own  course,  and  when  the  great  responsibility  came  to  him 
he  accepted  it  at  once,  without  shrinking,  solemnly  and 
modestly,  stipulating  only  that  he  should  receive  no  pay 
above  his  expenses,  and  saying  that  he  did  not  feel  equal 
to  the  command.  Artemus  Ward,  then  in  command  at 
Boston,  Philip  Schuyler,  Israel  Putnam,  and  Charles  Lee, 
the  last  an  English  adventurer,  glib  of  tongue  and  quite 
worthless,  were  chosen  major-generals.  Horatio  Gates, 
another  Englishman,  thanks  to  the  same  natural  colonial 
spirit  which  chose  Lee,  was  appointed  adjutant-general. 
Pomeroy,  Heath,  and  Thomas  of  Massachusetts,  Wooster 
and  Spencer  of  Connecticut,  Sullivan  of  New  Hampshire, 
Montgomery  of  New  York,  and  the  Quaker,  Nathaniel 
Greene  of  Rhode  Island,  who  proved  the  most  brilliant  of 
them  all,  were  appointed  brigadiers. 

Thus,  while  they  petitioned  the  King,  shrank  from  in 
dependence,  and  sought  conciliation  and  peace  by  ad 
dresses  and  memorials,  the  second  American  Congress  at 


THE  SECOND  CONGRESS  69 

the  same  time  took  into  their  service  an  army  already  in 
the  field,  and  sent  the  greatest  soldier  of  the  time  to  com 
mand  it  and  to  fight  the  troops  of  the  Sovereign  whom 
they  still  acknowledged.  Very  contradictory  and  yet  very 
human  and  natural  all  this,  for  great  causes  are  not  carried 
out,  nor  do  great  forces  move  upon  the  straight  lines 
marked  out  by  the  critic  or  the  student,  but  along  the 
devious  and  winding  paths  which  human  nature  always 
traces  for  itself  when  it  is  brought  face  to  face  with  diffi 
culties  and  trials  which  it  would  fain  avoid  and  must  meet. 


W 


CHAPTER    IV 

THE    REPLY    TO    LORD    SANDWICH 

HILE  Congress  was  thus  debating  and  resolv 
ing,  the  people  were  acting.  After  the  Con 
cord  fight  some  sixteen  thousand  armed  men 
gathered  about  Boston  and  laid  siege  to  the  town.  They 
were  under  different  and  independent  commands,  undis 
ciplined,  ill-armed,  with  no  heavy  guns  fit  for  siege  opera 
tions.  But  through  their  zeal  in  a  common  cause,  for  the 
time,  at  least,  they  made  up  in  activity  what  they  lacked 
in  organization  and  equipment.  They  managed  to  cut  off 
Boston  from  the  surrounding  country,  so  that  actual  dis 
tress  began  to  prevail  among  the  inhabitants,  and  thou 
sands  who  sympathized  with  the  patriots  abandoned  the 
town  and  made  their  way  to  the  neighboring  villages. 
With  no  regular  works  anywhere,  the  Americans  still  con 
trived  to  have  men  at  all  important  points,  and  in  some 
fashion  to  prevent  communication  with  the  country.  In 
addition  they  swept  the  harbor-islands  clean  of  cattle  and 
sheep,  and  this  work  led  to  frequent  skirmishes,  in  one  of 
which  the  Americans  destroyed  two  British  vessels  and 
drove  off  the  royal  troops.  An  effort  to  provision  Boston 
with  sheep  brought  from  the  southward  was  frustrated  by 
the  people  of  New  Bedford,  who  fitted  out  two  vessels, 

captured  those  of  the  enemy  with  the  live-stock  on  board, 

70 


THE  REPLY  TO  LORD  SANDWICH      71 

and  beat  off  a  British  sloop-of-war.  It  is  not  easy  to  un 
derstand  how  the  Americans,  ill-equipped  as  they  were, 
were  able  to  thus  maintain  the  lines  around  Boston  and 
hold  besieged  regular  troops  amounting  at  that  time  to 
over  five  thousand  men,  and  very  soon  afterward  to  more 
than  ten  thousand.  The  fact  can  only  be  explained  by 
the  utter  incompetency  of  the  British  commander,  Gen 
eral  Gage.  With  the  troops  under  him  he  ought  at  any 
time  to  have  been  able  to  break  the  extended  American 
line  and  drive  them  from  point  to  point.  Indeed,  he 
should  never  have  permitted  them  to  close  in  on  him. 
Instead  of  taking  vigorous  action,  however,  he  occupied 
himself  with  making  treaties  with  the  selectmen  of  the 
town  for  the  withdrawal  of  the  inhabitants  and  with  issu 
ing  fierce  proclamations,  while  he  allowed  the  enemy  to 
hold  him  a  virtual  prisoner.  It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at 
that  when  Burgoyne,  Clinton,  and  Howe  arrived  with  re 
inforcements  they  should  have  been  amazed  that  the  King's 
troops  had  not  long  since  beaten  and  driven  off  the  "  peas 
ants,"  as  they  called  them,  who  surrounded  the  town.  Yet 
the  new  generals  seem  only  to  have  added  to  the  sum  total 
of  British  incompetency.  With  largely  increased  forces 
they  still  did  not  attack  the  Americans  or  drive  them  away. 
On  the  contrary,  the  attack  came  from  the  "peasants," 
and  not  from  the  army  of  veterans  imprisoned  in  Boston. 

The  Americans  were  spurred  on  to  action  by  reports 
that  the  British  were  about  to  seize  certain  strategic  points 
and  fortify  them,  and  that  expeditions  were  preparing  for 
this  purpose.  In  order  to  be  beforehand  with  them  the 
council  of  war  prepared  a  plan  for  a  series  of  works  and 
redoubts  on  the  northern  side  of  the  city,  reaching  from 
what  is  now  Somerville  to  the  hills  of  Charlestown,  which 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 


PLAN" 

OFTHE 

BATTLE  OFBUNKER  HTTJ> 


[It  will  be  noticed  that  this  map,  from  British  surveys,  perpetuates  the  mistake 
which  caused  the  name  of  Bunker  Hill,  rather  than  Breed's  Hill,  to  be  given  to  the 
battle.  In  reality,  Breed's  Hill,  where  the  redoubt  was,  is  the  one  nearer  Boston.] 


bordered  on  the  river  and  harbor.  General  Ward  and 
others  of  the  commanding  officers  naturally  opposed  this 
plan  so  far  as  it  related  to  the  extreme  point  of  the  hills  in 


THE  REPLY  TO  LORD  SANDWICH      73 

Charlestown,  for  the  very  excellent  reason  that  they  had 
but  little  powder  and  no  cannon,  and  that  without  these 
essential  aids  it  seemed  rash  in  the  extreme  to  take  a  posi 
tion  near  the  British  lines  which  threatened  Boston  itself, 
and  where  they  could  be  cut  off  by  an  enterprising  ene 
my  seizing  the  narrow  neck  which  connected  the  penin 
sula  with  the  main  land.  While  they  were  debating  this 
question  news  came  from  a  trustworthy  source  that  on 
June  1 8th  the  British  intended  to  seize  Dorchester  Heights, 
to  the  south  of  the  town,  and  it  was  clear  that  if  they 
should  be  successful  in  this  movement  it  would  not  only 
absolutely  protect  Boston,  but  would  make  the  American 
positions  difficult  if  not  untenable.  Considerations  of  pru 
dence  were  therefore  laid  aside,  and  the  committee  of 
safety  decided  that  it  was  necessary  to  at  once  occupy 
Charlestown  Neck  and  Bunker  Hill.  General  Ward  and 
the  others  were  quite  right  in  thinking  this  a  desperate  un 
dertaking  for  which  they  were  totally  unprepared,  and  yet 
the  committee  of  safety,  favored  as  they  were  by  fortune, 
proved  to  be  on  the  broadest  grounds  correct.  It  was  es 
sential  to  hold  the  British  where  they  were  in  the  town. 
If  they  once  got  possession  of  the  commanding  points  out 
side,  it  would  be  impossible  to  drive  them  out  of  Boston, 
and  one  of  the  principal  American  cities  would  remain  in 
the  enemy's  hands.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  the  Americans 
seized  a  position  close  to  the  British  lines  and  became  the 
aggressors,  then  whether  they  failed  or  succeeded  in  hold 
ing  their  ground  permanently,  they  would,  by  fighting, 
prevent  the  enemy  from  making  an  advance  movement, 
and  from  so  strengthening  and  extending  his  lines  that  he 
could  neither  be  closely  beseiged  nor  forced  from  the 
town. 


74  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

Thus  it  came  about,  either  by  sound  military  instinct 
or  by  equally  sound  reasoning,  that  the  order  was  issued 
to  occupy  and  fortify  Bunker  Hill  in  Charlestown,  and 
late  in  the  afternoon  of  June  i6th  the  troops  selected  for 
this  duty  were  ordered  to  parade.  Three  Massachusetts 
regiments,  two  hundred  Connecticut  men  as  a  fatigue 
party,  and  an  artillery  company  with  two  field-pieces 
formed  the  detachment.  Drawn  up  on  Cambridge  Com 
mon  they  stood  quietly  in  the  summer  twilight  and  listened 
to  the  fervent  prayer  of  Samuel  Langdon,  the  President 
of  Harvard  College,  as  he  blessed  them  and  bade  them 
God-speed.  Then  the  word  was  given,  and  with  Colonel 
Prescott  in  command  and  at  the  front,  and  their  intrench 
ing  tools  in  carts  bringing  up  the  rear,  they  started  as  the 
darkness  fell  and  marched  to  Charlestown.  When  they 
reached  the  Neck  they  halted,  and  a  small  party  was  de 
tached  to  guard  and  \vatch  the  town  while  the  main  body 
went  on  to  Bunker  Hill.  Here  they  halted  again,  and  a 
long  discussion  ensued  as  to  where  they  should  intrench. 
The  orders  said  plainly  Bunker  Hill,  but  the  nature  of  the 
ground  said  with  equal  plainness  Breed's  Hill,  which  was 
farther  to  the  front,  nearer  to  the  river,  and  more  threaten 
ing  to  the  city.  The  dispute  \vent  on  until  the  engineer 
begged  for  a  speedy  decision,  and  they  then  determined 
to  throw  up  the  intrenchments  on  Breed's  Hill  and  fortify 
Bunker  Hill  afterward. 

Then  the  work  began.  Gridley  marked  out  the  lines 
for  the  intrenchment  and  did  it  well.  He  was  an  accom 
plished  engineer  and  had  seen  service  at  Louisburg  and  in 
the  old  French  war.  The  redoubt  he  laid  out  in  haste 
that  night  excited  the  admiration  of  the  enemy  the  next 
day.  The  lines  drawn,  a  thousand  men  set  to  work  with 


THE  REPLY  TO  LORD  SANDWICH      77 

spades  to  raise  the  earthworks.  These  American  soldiers, 
called  hastily  from  their  farms,  lacked  organization  and 
military  discipline,  but  they  were  intelligent,  independent 
men,  accustomed  to  turn  their  hand  to  anything.  They 
could  shoot  and  they  could  also  dig.  They  were  able  to 
handle  the  spade  as  dexterously  and  effectively  as  the  rifle. 
It  was  well  for  them  that  they  could  do  so,  for  the  June 
night  was  short,  and  quick  work  was  vital.  Close  by  them 
along  the  river-front  lay  five  men-of-war  and  several  float 
ing  batteries,  all  within  gunshot.  On  the  other  side  of  the 
stream  the  British  sentinels  paced  up  and  down  the  shore. 
Prescott,  when  the  work  began,  sent  a  small  detachment 
under  Maxwell  to  patrol  Charlestown  and  guard  the  ferry. 
Twice  during  the  night  he  went  down  himself  to  the  edge 
of  the  water  and  listened  intently  to  catch  the  drowsy  cry 
of  "  All's  well  "  from  the  watch  on  the  British  ships.  The 
work,  therefore,  had  to  be  not  only  quick  but  quiet,  and 
it  is  a  marvel  that  no  British  sentry,  and  still  more,  no 
sailor  on  the  men-of-war,  detected  the  movement  on  the 
hill  or  heard  the  click  of  the  spades  and  the  hum  and  stir 
of  a  thousand  men  toiling  as  they  never  toiled  before. 
But  the  Americans  labored  on  in  silence  under  the  sum 
mer  starlight,  faster  and  faster,  until  the  gray  dawn  began 
to  show  faintly  in  the  east.  When  the  light  came,  the 
sailors  on  the  nearest  sloop  suddenly  saw  that  intrench- 
ments  six  feet  high  had  sprung  up  in  the  night  and  were 
frowning  at  them  from  the  nearest  hill.  The  sight  of  the 
works  was  a  complete  surprise,  and  the  captain  of  the 
Lively,  without  waiting  for  orders,  opened  fire.  The 
sound  of  the  guns  roused  Boston.  British  officers  and 
townspeople  alike  rushed  out  to  see  what  had  happened. 
To  the  former  that  which  met  their  eyes  was  not  an  en- 


78  THE  STORY   OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

couraging  sight,  for  with  those  Charlestovvn  hills  fortified 
and  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  Boston  would  be  untenable 
and  they  would  be  forced  to  abandon  the  town.  Gage  at 
once  called  a  council  of  officers  and  they  determined  that 
the  works  on  Breed's  Hill  must  be  taken  immediately  and 
at  all  hazards,  and  the  Americans  driven  off.  Unwilling, 
on  account  of  Ward's  army  at  Cambridge,  to  land  on  the 
Neck,  which  had  been  left  practically  unguarded,  and  thus 
assail  the  redoubt  from  behind,  the  one  thing  of  all  others 
to  do,  and  thoroughly  despising  their  opponents,  of  whom 
they  knew  nothing,  they  decided  to  make  a  direct  attack 
in  front,  and  orders  went  forth  at  once  to  draw  out  the 
troops  and  transport  them  by  boats  to  Charlestown. 

Meantime  the  battery  on  Copp's  Hill  and  the  water- 
batteries  had  been  firing  on  the  American  works.  The 
fire,  however,  was  ineffective,  and  the  Americans  continued 
their  task  of  finishing  and  perfecting  their  intrenchments 
and  of  building  the  interior  platforms.  Made  in  such 
haste,  they  were  rude  defences  at  best,  but  all  that  could  be 
done  was  done.  At  first  when  a  private  was  killed  by  a 
cannon-ball  there  was  some  alarm  among  the  men  unac 
customed  to  artillery  fire,  and  Colonel  Prescott  therefore 
mounted  the  parapet  and  walked  slowly  up  and  down 
to  show  them  that  there  was  no  serious  danger.  The  sight 
of  that  tall,  soldierly  figure  standing  calmly  out  in  full  view 
of  the  enemy  gave  confidence  at  once,  and  there  were  no 
more  murmurs  of  alarm,  although  when  the  tide  was  at 
flood  some  of  the  war-ships  were  able  to  enfilade  the  re 
doubt  and  pour  in  a  better-directed  fire.  So  the  day  wore 
on  with  its  accompaniment  of  roaring  cannon,  the  Ameri 
cans  waiting  patiently  under  the  hot  sun,  tired  and  thirsty, 
but  ready  and  eager  to  fight. 


THE  REPLY  TO  LORD  SANDWICH 


79 


PRESCOTT  ON  THE  PARAPET  AT  BUNKER  HILL. 

The  sight  of  that  tall,  soldierly  figure  standing  calmly  out  in  full  view  of  the  e ne>ny  gave  confidence  at  once. 

At  noon  the  British  troops  marched  through  the  streets 
of  Boston,  and  began  to  embark  under  cover  of  an  in 
creased  and  strongly  sustained  fire  from  the  ships  and  float 
ing  batteries.  By  one  o'clock  they  had  landed  in  good 
order  at  Moulton's  Point,  and  formed  in  three  lines.  Not 


8o  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

liking  the  looks  of  the  redoubt  now  that  he  was  near  to  it, 
General  Howe  sent  for  reinforcements,  and  while  he  waited 
for  them  his  men  dined.  Prescott,  too,  early  in  the  morn 
ing  had  sent  for  reinforcements,  and  the  news  that  the 
British  had  landed,  caused  a  great  stir  in  the  camp  at  Cam 
bridge,  but  owing  to  the  lack  of  organization  only  a  few 
fresh  troops  ever  reached  the  hill.  Some  leaders  arrived, 
like  Warren  and  Pomeroy  and  General  Putnam,  who  did 
admirable  service  throughout  the  day.  John  Stark  came 
over  with  his  New  Hampshire  company,  declining  to 
quicken  his  step  across  the  Neck,  which  was  swept  by  the 
British  fire,  and  brought  his  men  on  the  field  in  good  con 
dition.  But  with  some  few  exceptions  of  this  sort,  Pres 
cott  was  obliged  to  rely  entirely  on  the  small  detachment  he 
had  himself  led  there  the  night  before.  Seeing  a  move 
ment  on  the  part  of  the  British  which  made  him  believe 
that  they  were  going  to  try  to  turn  his  position  on  the  left, 
with  the  true  military  instinct  and  quick  decision  which  he 
displayed  throughout  the  day  Prescott  detached  Colonel 
Knowlton  with  the  Connecticut  troops  and  the  artillery  to 
oppose  the  enemy's  right  wing.  Knowlton  took  a  posi 
tion  near  the  base  of  the  hill,  behind  a  stone  fence  with  a 
rail  on  top.  In  front  he  hastily  built  another  fence  and 
filled  the  space  between  the  two  with  freshly  cut  grass  from 
the  meadow.  It  was  not  such  a  work  as  a  Vauban  would 
have  built,  or  foreign  military  experts  would  have  praised, 
but  the  Americans  of  that  day,  instead  of  criticising  it  be 
cause  it  was  not  on  the  approved  foreign  model,  made  the 
best  of  it  and  proceeded  to  use  it  to  good  purpose.  While 
Knowlton  was  thus  engaged  he  was  joined  by  Stark  and 
the  New  Hampshire  men,  and  with  their  aid  was  enabled 
to  extend  and  strengthen  his  line. 


THE  REPLY  TO  LORD  SANDWICH      81 

At  last  the  forces  were  in  position.  The  long  hours  of 
quiet  waiting  in  the  burning  sun  were  drawing  to  an  end. 
The  British  forces  were  at  length  in  line,  and  soon  after 
three  o'clock  Howe  briefly  told  his  men  that  they  were  the 
finest  troops  in  the  world,  and  that  the  hill  must  be  taken. 
Then  he  gave  the  word,  and  under  cover  of  a  very  heavy 
fire  from  the  ships,  the  batteries,  and  the  artillery,  they 
began  to  advance,  marching  in  admirable  order  with  all 
the  glitter  and  show  of  highly  disciplined  troops.  They 
were  full  of  cheerful,  arrogant  confidence.  They  despised 
the  Provincials  and  looked  with  scorn  on  the  rude  works. 
They  had  been  taught  to  believe  also  that  the  Americans 
were  cowards.  Had  not  Lord  Sandwich  and  other  emi 
nent  persons,  whom  they  were  bound  to  credit,  told  them 
so  ?  They  expected  a  short,  sharp  rush,  a  straggling  fire, 
a  panic-stricken  retreat  of  the  enemy,  and  an  easy  victory 
to  celebrate  that  evening  in  Boston. 

Howe  led  the  attack  on  the  flank  in  person,  aiming  at 
the  rail  fence  and  the  collection  of  "  rustics,"  as  he  would 
have  called  them,  who  were  gathered  there.  General  Pigot 
led  the  assault  in  front  upon  the  redoubt  itself.  On  they 
marched,  very  fine  to  look  upon  in  their  brilliant  uniforms 
and  with  their  shining  arms.  Onward  still  they  went,  the 
artillery  booming  loudly  over  their  heads.  They  began  to 
draw  near  the  works  and  yet  the  enemy  gave  no  sign.  The 
sun  was  very  hot,  and  they  had  heavy  knapsacks  just  as  if 
they  were  going  on  a  march  instead  of  into  action,  which 
was  natural  from  their  point  of  view,  for  they  expected  no 
battle.  The  grass,  too,  was  very  long,  and  the  fences  were 
many.  It  was  harder  getting  at  the  Americans,  the  heat 
was  greater,  the  way  longer,  than  they  had  imagined,  but 
the-se  things  after  all  were  trifles,  and  they  would  soon  be 

VOL.  I.— 6 


82  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

on  the  rebels  now.  Still  all  was  silent  in  the  redoubts. 
They  came  within  gunshot.  There  were  a  few  straggling 
shots  from  the  fort,  quickly  suppressed,  and  it  looked  as  if 
the  officers  were  going  round  the  parapet  knocking  up  the 
guns.  What  could  it  all  mean  ?  Were  the  Provincials 
going  to  retreat  without  firing  at  all  ?  It  would  seem  that 
they  were  more  cowardly  than  even  the  liberal  estimate 
made  by  Lord  Sandwich  allowed.  Perhaps  most  of  them 
had  slipped  away  already.  In  any  event,  it  would  soon  be 
over.  On  then  fast,  for  it  was  well  within  gunshot  now. 
Forward  again  quickly,  and  the  separating  distance  is  only 
ten  or  twelve  rods.  Suddenly  they  heard  from  the  fort  the 
sharp  order  to  fire.  A  sheet  of  flame  sweeps  down  from 
the  redoubt.  It  is  a  deadly,  murderous  fire.  The  execu 
tion  is  terrible.  Officers  fall  in  all  directions.  The  British 
troops,  and  there  are  in  truth  no  finer  or  braver  in  the 
world,  return  the  fire  sharply,  but  not  well.  The  lines 
waver  and  gaps  open  everywhere  in  the  ranks.  Meantime 
the  fire  from  the  fort  continues,  steady,  rapid,  effective, 
evidently  aimed  by  marksmen  whose  nerves  are  in  good 
order. 

How  were  they  faring  meanwhile  at  the  rail  fence, 
where  General  Howe  was  leading  his  men  in  person  ?  Not 
quite  so  silent  here.  The  two  little  American  field-pieces 
opened  effectively  as  the  British  advanced.  There  were 
some  straggling  shots  from  the  fence,  quickly  suppressed 
as  on  the  hill,  but  they  drew  the  fire  of  the  troops  who 
came  on,  firing  regularly  as  if  on  parade.  It  would  not 
take  long  to  dispose  of  this  flimsy  barrier.  On,  then,  and 
forward.  They  came  within  gunshot,  they  came  within  ten 
rods,  and  now  the  rail  fence  flamed  as  the  American  fire 
ran  down  the  line.  This,  too,  was  a  deadly  fire.  The  offi- 


THE  REPLY  TO  LORD  SANDWICH      83 

cers  were  picked  off.  The  troops  began  to  break,  so  sav 
age  was  the  slaughter.  On  hill  and  meadow,  before  redoubt 
and  rail  fence,  the  British  columns  gave  way.  They  could 
not  stand  the  execution  that  was  being  done  upon  them. 
Pigot  ordered  a  retreat,  and  Howe's  men  broke  and  scat 
tered.  As  the  British  troops  recoiled  and  fell  back,  cut  up 
by  the  American  fire,  the  Americans  sprang  forward  with 
cheers  eager  to  pursue,  restrained  only  by  their  officers,  and 
shouting,  "  Are  the  Yankees  cowards  ?  "  Lord  Sandwich 
was  answered.  Whatever  the  final  result,  the  men  who 
had  met  and  repulsed  that  onslaught  were  not  cowards. 

General  Howe  soon  rallied  his  surprised  and  broken 
troops  and  formed  them  again  in  well-drawn  lines.  The 
British  then  set  fire  to  the  village  of  Charlestown,  a  per 
fectly  wanton  and  utterly  useless  performance,  as  the  wind 
carried  the  smoke  away  from  the  redoubt,  and  did  not  take 
possession  of  the  Neck,  which  would  have  thrown  the 
whole  American  force  on  the  hills  helplessly  into  their 
hands.  The  ships  then  renewed  their  bombardment  with 
increased  fury  ;  the  artillery  was  advanced  on  the  right, 
where  it  could  do  much  more  execution  upon  the  defenders 
of  the  rail  fence,  and  with  the  little  town  in  flames  on  their 
left,  the  British  moved  forward  to  a  second  assault.  They 
advanced  firing,  their  march  encumbered  now  not  only  by 
long  grass  and  fences,  but  by  the  bodies  of  their  comrades 
fallen  in  the  first  attack.  Their  fire  did  little  execution, 
for  they  aimed  too  high.  Still  they  moved  on  with  their  well- 
ordered  lines.  Again  the  redoubt  was  silent.  They  came 
within  gunshot,  within  ten  rods,  still  silence.  Now  they 
were  within  six  rods  and  now  came  again  that  sheet  of 
flame  and  the  deadly  fire.  This  time  they  were  not  taken 
by  surprise.  They  knew  now  that  there  were  men  behind 


84  THE  STORY   OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

those  rude  earthworks  who  could  and  would  shoot  straight, 
and  who  had  not  run  away  at  their  approach.  They  stag 
gered  under  the  shock  of  this  first  volley,  but  rallied  gal 
lantly  and  came  on.  Could  the  Americans  maintain  their 
ground  after  one  volley  ?  It  appeared  that  they  could. 
Colonel  Prescott  said  there  was  a  "continuous  stream  of 
fire  from  the  redoubt."  So  continuous,  so  rapid,  and  so 
steady  was  it,  that  the  British  never  got  across  the  short 
distance  which  remained.  They  struggled  bravely  forward, 
many  falling  within  a  few  yards  of  the  redoubt  and  on  the 
very  slopes  of  the  embankment.  Then  they  gave  way,  this 
time  in  confusion,  and  fled.  Some  ran  even  to  the  boats. 
It  was  the  same  at  the  rail  fence.  Despite  the  artillery 
playing  on  their  left,  the  Americans  stood  firm  and  poured 
in  their  fatal  volleys  when  the  enemy  came  within  the  pre 
scribed  line.  Howe's  officers  and  aides  fell  all  about  him, 
so  that  at  times  he  was  left  almost  alone,  a  gallant  figure  in 
the  thick  of  the  slaughter,  in  the  midst  of  dead  and  dying, 
his  silk  stockings  splashed  with  blood  and  still  calling  to 
his  soldiers  to  come  on.  The  men  who  shot  down  his  staff 
spared  him.  Perhaps  the  memory  of  the  equally  gallant 
brother  whom  they  had  followed  in  the  Old  French  War, 
and  a  monument  to  that  brother  placed  in  Westminster 
Abbey  by  the  province  of  Massachusetts,  turned  aside  the 
guns  which  could  have  picked  him  off  as  they  did  his  com 
panions  in  arms.  But  at  that  moment  no  personal  cour 
age  in  the  commander  could  hold  the  troops.  They  broke 
as  the  main  column  had  broken  on  Breed's  Hill  before  the 
sustained  and  fatal  fire  of  the  Americans,  and  swept  back 
ward  almost  in  a  panic  to  the  shore  and  the  boats. 

This  second  repulse  was  far  more  serious  both  in  losses 
and  in  moral  effect  than  the  first.     So  long  a  time  elapsed 


THE  REPLY  TO  LORD  SANDWICH 


before  the  British  moved  again  that  some  of  the  American 
officers  thought  that  the  enemy  would  not  try  the  works 
a  third  time.  The  interval 
of  delay,  however,  served 
only  to  disclose  the  inherent 
weakness  of  the  American 
position.  The  men  had  be 
haved  with  steady  courage, 
and  fought  most  admirably, 
but  they  were  entirely  un 
supported,  and  without  sup 
port  the  position  was  unten 
able  against  repeated  attacks 
from  a  superior  force,  and  a 
mere  trap  if  the  British  gen 
eral  had  had  the  intelligence 
to  seize  the  Neck.  The 
American  army  at  Cam 
bridge  had  no  real  military  organization,  the  general  was 
without  a  staff,  and,  though  a  brave  man,  was  unable  to  sup 
ply  the  deficiencies  by  his  own  energy  and  genius.  Prescott 
had  sent  early  in  the  day  for  reinforcements,  but  such  confu 
sion  prevailed  at  Cambridge  that  none  were  dispatched  to 
his  assistance  in  an  intelligent  and  effective  manner.  A 
number  of  companies,  indeed,  started  from  Cambridge  for 
Charlestown.  Some  turned  back,  unwilling  to  face  the 
fire  of  the  ships  which  swept  the  Neck.  Stark  came 
through,  as  has  been  said,  early  in  the  day,  and  did 
splendid  service  with  his  men  at  the  rail  fence ;  but  the 
others  for  the  most  part  never  came  into  action  at  all. 
Orders  were  disobeyed,  contradictory  commands  issued, 
and  men  straggled  away  from  their  regiments,  some  to 


GENERAL   WILLIAM  HOWE. 

ortrait  by  Dodci,  May 


88  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

retreat,  some  to  join  in  desultory  and  independent  fight 
ing  from  outlying  positions.  Therefore,  despite  the  great 
efforts  of  some  of  the  officers,  and  especially  of  General 
Putnam,  such  men  as  really  succeeded  in  reaching  Charles- 
town  remained  in  confusion  on  Bunker  Hill  in  the  rear 
of  the  redoubt.  Even  worse  than  the  failure  to  support 
Prescott  with  troops,  which  was  due  to  lack  of  discipline 
and  leadership,  was  the  failure  to  send  him  ammunition. 
He  found  himself  forced  to  face  a  third  attack,  with 
no  fresh  soldiers,  but  only  his  own  men  who  had  been  dig 
ging  all  night  and  fighting  all  day,  and  \vith  scarcely  any 
powder.  Most  of  his  men  had  only  a  single  round,  none 
more  than  three,  and  they  broke  up  the  cartridges  of  the 
cannon  to  get  a  last  pitiful  supply.  With  the  shadow  of 
certain  defeat  upon  him,  Prescott  saw  the  British  prepare 
for  a  third  assault.  Howe,  not  without  difficulty,  had 
rallied  his  men  and  reformed  his  ranks,  while  a  reinforce 
ment  of  four  hundred  marines  had  landed  and  joined  him. 
He  also  had  learned  a  lesson,  and  had  found  out  that  he 
had  a  dangerous  enemy  before  him.  This  time  the 
British  soldiers  laid  aside  their  knapsacks,  and  advanced 
in  light  order.  This  time,  too,  only  a  feint  was  made  at 
the  rail  fence,  and  the  whole  attack,  as  well  as  the  artil 
lery  fire,  was  concentrated  on  the  redoubt.  Prescott  knew 
that  without  powder,  and  with  scarcely  any  bayonets,  he 
could  not  shatter  the  columns  before  they  reached  the 
breastworks,  nor  repel  an  enemy  capable  of  a  bayonet 
charge  once  they  had  reached  the  parapet.  Nevertheless, 
he  determined  to  stand  his  ground,  and  make  to  the  last 
the  best  fight  he  could.  The  British  moved  forward,  this 
time  in  silence.  "  Make  every  shot  tell,"  said  Prescott  to 
his  men,  and  when  the  British  were  within  t\venty  yards 


THE  REPLY  TO  LORD  SANDWICH      89 

the  Americans,  standing  their  ground  firmly  under  the 
artillery  fire,  poured  in  a  withering  volley.  The  British 
line  staggered,  but  came  on.  As  they  mounted  the  para 
pet  another  light  volley  did  even  more  execution,  but  it 
was  the  last.  The  American  powder  was  exhausted,  and 
the  Minute  Men  could  only  meet  the  bayonets  with 


JOSEPH  WARREN,  KILLED  AT  BUNKER  HILL. 

From  a  portrait  fainted  by  Copley  in  1774. 

clubbed  muskets.  It  was  a  useless  and  hopeless  waste  of 
life  to  contend  with  such  odds  under  such  conditions,  and 
Prescott  gave  the  word  to  retreat.  His  men  fell  back  from 
the  redoubt,  he  himself  going  last,  and  parrying  bayonet 
thrusts  with  his  sword.  Now  it  was  that  the  Americans 
suffered  most  severely,  and  that  Warren,  one  of  the  best 
beloved  of  the  popular  leaders,  was  killed.  Nevertheless, 
the  men  drew  off  steadily  and  without  panic.  The  brave 


90  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

troops  at  the  rail  fence  who  had  fought  so  well  all  day, 
checked  the  British  advance  and  covered  the  retreat  of  the 
main  body  under  Prescott ;  Andrew  McClary,  the  gallant 
major  of  the  New  Hampshire  company,  being  killed  as 
he  brought  off  his  men.  All  that  was  left  of  the  little 
American  band  retreated  in  good  order  across  the  Neck. 
They  were  not  pursued.  General  Clinton,  who  had  joined 
before  the  last  attack,  urged  Howe  to  follow  up  his  vic 
tory,  but  Howe  and  his  men  had  had  enough.  They  took 
possession  of  Bunker  Hill  with  fresh  reinforcements,  and 
contented  themselves  with  holding  what  they  had  gained, 
while  the  Americans  established  themselves  upon  the  hills 
on  the  other  side  of  Charlestown  Neck.  They  had  been 
driven  from  their  advanced  position,  but  one  great  result 
had  been  gained.  The  losses  had  been  so  severe  that  the 
British  plan  to  take  Dorchester  Heights  had  to  be  given 
up.  If  the  colonists  could  have  held  Breed's  Hill,  the 
British  would  have  been  compelled  to  abandon  Boston  at 
once ;  but  the  fact  that  they  failed  to  hold  it  did  not  give 
the  British  a  position  which  enabled  them  to  command 
the  American  lines,  or  to  prevent  a  close  siege  which 
would  ultimately  force  evacuation. 

Such  was  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill.  The  victory  was 
with  the  British,  for  they  took  the  contested  ground  and 
held  it.  But  the  defeat  of  Bunker  Hill  was  worth  many 
victories  to  the  Americans.  It  proved  to  them  that  Brit 
ish  troops  were  not  invincible,  as  they  had  been  so  confi 
dently  assured.  It  proved  their  own  fighting  capacity, 
and  gave  strength  and  heart  to  the  people  of  every  colony. 
Concord  and  Lexington  had  made  civil  war  inevitable. 
Bunker  Hill  showed  that  the  Revolution,  rightly  led,  was 
certain  to  succeed.  The  story  of  Bunker  Hill  battle  has 


THE  REPLY  TO  LORD  SANDWICH      91 

been  told  in  prose  and  verse  many  times,  and  there  is 
nothing  to  be  added  to  the  facts,  but  there  was  a  meaning 
to  it  which  was  entirely  overlooked  at  the  moment,  and 
which  has  never  been  sufficiently  emphasized  since.  The 
fact  that  the  British  carried  the  hill  is  nothing,  for  they 
lost  thirteen  colonies  in  consequence.  But  it  is  in  the  sta 
tistics  of  the  battle  that  the  real  lesson  lay,  a  lesson  which 
showed  how  disastrous  a  day  it  really  had  been  for  the 
British  army,  and  which  if  taken  to  heart  by  the  Ministry, 
a  thing  quite  impossible  under  the  circumstances,  might 
have  led  even  then  to  peace  and  concession.  The  price 
paid  for  that  hill  on  June  17,  1775,  was  enormous,  without 
regard  to  more  remote  results.  Never  had  the  British 
troops  behaved  with  more  stubborn  bravery  ;  never  had 
they  been  more  ruthlessly  sacrificed,  and  never  up  to  that 
time  had  British  soldiers  faced  such  a  fire.  They  brought 
into  action  something  over  three  thousand  men,  and  not 
more  than  thirty-five  hundred.  The  official  British  returns 
give  the  killed  and  wounded  as  1,054.  The  Americans  in 
Boston  insisted  that  the  British  loss  reached  1,500,  but  let 
us  take  only  the  official  return  of  1,054.  That  means  that 
the  British  loss  was  a  trifle  over  thirty  per  cent.  The  sig 
nificance  of  these  figures  can  only  be  understood  by  a  few 
comparisons.  The  statistics  of  losses  in  Marlborough's 
battles  are  rough  and  inexact,  but  so  far  as  we  know  the 
allies  lost  at  Blenheim,  where  only  16,000  of  the  55,000 
were  British  troops,  about  twenty-five  per  cent.;  at  Ramil- 
lies  about  seven  per  cent.  ;  at  Malplaquet  less  than  t\venty- 
five  percent;  at  Fontenoy,  where  the  Duke  of  Cumber 
land,  the  "  Martial  Boy,  sans  peur  et  sans  avis"  hurled 
the  British  force  at  the  centre  of  the  French  line  in  a 
charge  as  magnificent  and  desperate  as  it  was  wild  and 


92  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

foolish,  there  were  28,000  English 
soldiers  in  the  army,  and  the  loss 
in  killed  and  wounded  was  some 
what  over  fourteen  per  cent.  Thus 
we  see  the  correctness  of  the  state 
ment  that  no  English  soldiers  had 
at  that  time  ever  faced  such  a  fire 
as  they  met  at  Bunker  Hill.  In 
later  times  the  British  loss  at  Wa 
terloo  was  nearly  thirty-four  per 
cent.,  and  the  loss  of  the  allied 
armies  about  fifteen  per  cent. ;  while 
at  Gettysburg  the  Union  army  lost 
about  twenty -five  per  cent.,  and 
these  were  two  of  the  bloodiest  of 
modern  battles.  Waterloo  lasted  all 
day,  Gettysburg  three  days,  Bunker 
Hill,  an  hour  and  a  half.  At  Grave- 
lotte,  the  most  severe  battle  of  our 
own  time,  and  with  modern  weap 
ons,  the  German  loss  was  less  than 
fourteen  per  cent.  Take  another 
significant  feature  at  Bunker  Hill. 
One  hundred  and  fifty-seven  British 
officers  were  killed  or  wounded. 
Wellington  had  four  hundred  and 
fifty-six  killed  or  wounded  at  Wa 
terloo.  If  the  Bunker  Hill  propor 
tion  had  been  maintained  he  should  have  lost  nine  hundred 
and  forty-two.  The  American  loss  was  less  than  the  British, 
because  the  men  fought  from  behind  intrenchments,  and 
it  was  sustained  chiefly  in  the  last  hand-to-hand  struggle. 


A     GLIMPSE     OF    BUNKER 
HILL    MONUMENT  FROM 
COPPS  HILL   CEMETERY. 
On  this  hill  was   the  battery   which 
destroyed  the  toiun  of  Charlestown  dur 
ing  the  battle  of  Blinker  Hill. 


THE  REPLY  TO  LORD  SANDWICH      93 

Nevertheless,  it  was  very  severe.  At  different  times  the 
Americans  appear  to  have  had  in  Charlestown  between 
two  and  three  thousand  men,  but  Washington,  who  was 
most  accurate  and  had  careful  returns,  stated  that  they 
never  had  more  than  fifteen  hundred  men  engaged,  which 
agrees  with  the  best  estimates  that  can  be  now  made  of 
the  number  of  men  who  fought  at  the  redoubt  and  behind 
the  rail  fence.  The  American  loss  was,  from  the  best  re 
ports  available,  four  hundred  and  eleven  killed  and  wound 
ed,  at  least  twenty  per  cent,  of  the  whole  force  actually 
engaged. 

o    o 

These  statistics  of  the  British  loss,  when  analyzed, 
show  the  gallantry  of  the  English  soldiers,  which  no  other 
race  at  that  time  could  have  equalled,  and  a  folly  on  the 
part  of  their  commanders  in  attempting  to  rush  an  earth 
work  held  by  such  opponents,  which  it  is  hard  to  realize. 
Yet  it  is  in  the  reasons  for  that  very  folly,  which  proved 
such  a  piece  of  good  fortune  to  Prescott  and  his  men,  that 
we  can  find  an  explanation  for  the  American  Revolution, 
and  for  the  disasters  to  the  British  arms  which  accom 
panied  it. 

Englishmen  generally  took  the  view  that  the  people 
of  the  American  Colonies  were  in  all  ways  inferior  to 
themselves,  and  particularly  in  fighting  capacity.  Lord 
Sandwich  was  not  exceptional  in  his  ignorance  when  he 
declared  that  the  Yankees  were  cowards.  Weight  was 
given  to  what  he  said  merely  because  he  happened  to  be 
a  peer,  but  his  views  were  shared  by  most  public  men  in 
England,  and  by  most  of  the  representatives  of  the  Eng 
lish  Crown  in  America,  both  military  and  civil.  The 
opinion  of  statesmen  like  Chatham,  Camden,  or  Burke, 
was  disregarded,  while  that  of  Lord  Sandwich  and  other 


94  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

persons  equally  unintelligent  was  accepted.  It  was  this 
stupidity  and  lack  of  knowledge  which  gave  birth  to  the 
policy  that  resulted  in  colonial  resistance  to  the  Stamp 
Act,  and  later  to  the  assembling  of  the  first  Revolution 
ary  Congress.  It  seems  very  strange  that  intelligent  men 
should  have  had  such  ideas  in  regard  to  the  people  of  the 
American  Colonies,  when  the  slightest  reflection  would 
have  disclosed  to  them  the  truth.  The  men  of  New 
England,  against  whom  their  wrath  was  first  directed, 
were  of  almost  absolutely  pure  English  stock.  They  were 
descendants  of  the  Puritans,  and  of  the  men  who  followed 
Cromwell  and  formed  the  famous  army  which  he  led  to 
a  series  of  unbroken  victories.  Whatever  the  faults  of 
the  Puritans  may  have  been,  no  one  ever  doubted  their 
ability  in  public  affairs,  their  qualities  as  citizens,  or,  above 
all,  their  fighting  capacity.  In  the  one  hundred  and 
twenty-five  years  which  had  elapsed  since  that  period, 
what  had  happened  to  make  their  descendants  in  the  New 
World  degenerate  ?  The  people  of  New  England  had 
made  a  hard  fight  to  establish  their  homes  in  the  wilder 
ness,  to  gather  subsistence,  and,  later,  wealth  from  an 
ungrateful  soil  and  from  the  stormy  seas  of  the  North 
Atlantic.  They  had  been  engaged  in  almost  constant 
warfare  with  the  Indians  and  French  and  had  formed  a 
large  part  of  the  armies  with  which  Pitt  had  wrested 
Canada  from  France.  Surely  there  was  nothing  in  all 
this  to  weaken  their  fibre  or  to  destroy  their  fighting 
qualities.  Frontiersmen  and  pioneers  whose  arms  were 
the  axe  and  the  rifle,  sturdy  farmers  and  hardy  fishermen 
from  the  older  settlements,  of  almost  pure  English  blood, 
with  a  small  infusion  of  Huguenots  and  a  slight  mingling, 
chiefly  in  New  Hampshire,  of  Scotch-Irish  from  London- 


THE  REPLY  TO  LORD  SANDWICH      95 

deny,  were  not,  on  the  face  of  things,  likely  to  be  timid 
or  weak.  Yet  these  were  the  very  men  Lord  Sandwich 
and  the  Ministry,  and  England  generally,  set  down  as 
cowards,  who  would  run  like  sheep  before  the  British 
troops.  While  the  resistance  to  the  English  policy  of 
interference  was  confined  to  the  arena  of  debate  and  of 
parliamentary  opposition,  the  rulers  of  England  found 
the  representatives  of  these  American  people  to  be  good 
lawyers,  keen  politicians  and  statesmen,  able  to  frame 
state  papers  of  the  highest  merit.  Untaught,  however,  by 
the  controversy  of  words,  they  resorted  to  force ;  and 
when  the  British  generals,  on  the  morning  of  June  lyth, 
beheld  the  rude  earthworks  on  Breed's  Hill,  their  only 
feeling  was  one  of  scorn  for  the  men  who  had  raised  them, 
and  of  irritation  at  the  audacity  which  prompted  the  act. 
With  such  beliefs  they  undertook  to  march  up  to  the  re 
doubt  as  they  would  have  paraded  to  check  the  advance 
of  a  city  mob.  When  they  came  within  range  they  were 
met  by  a  fire  which,  in  accuracy  and  in  rapidity,  surpassed 
anything  they  had  ever  encountered.  As  they  fell  back 
broken  from  the  slopes  of  the  hill  their  one  feeling  was 
that  of  surprise.  Yet  all  that  had  happened  was  the  most 
natural  thing  in  the  world.  To  men  who  had  fought  in 
the  French  and  Indian  wars,  who  had  been  bred  on  the 
farm  and  fishing  smack,  who  were  accustomed  to  arms 
from  their  youth,  who,  with  a  single  bullet,  could  pick  off 
a  squirrel  from  the  top  of  the  highest  tree,  it  was  an  easy 
matter,  even  though  they  were  undisciplined,  to  face  the 
British  soldiers  and  cut  them  down  with  a  fire  so  accurate 
that  even  stubborn  British  courage  could  not  withstand 
it.  Contempt  for  all  persons  not  living  in  England, 
and  profound  ignorance  of  all  people  but  their  own,  were 


96  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

the  reasons  for  the  merciless  slaughter  which  came  upon 
the  British  soldiers  at  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill.  The 
lesson  of  that  day  was  wasted  upon  England,  because  in 
sular  contempt  for  every  other  people  on  earth,  even  if 
they  are  kith  and  kin,  is  hard  to  overcome.  It  was,  how 
ever,  a  good  beginning,  and  the  lesson  was  ultimately 
learned,  for  the  same  ignorance  and  contempt  which  led 
to  the  reckless  charges  against  the  Charlestovvn  earth 
works  dictated  the  policy  and  sustained  the  war  which 
cost  England  the  surrender  of  two  armies  and  the  loss  of 
thirteen  great  colonies.  Perfect  satisfaction  with  one's 
self,  coupled  with  a  profound  ignorance  and  openly  ex 
pressed  contempt  in  regard  to  other  people,  no  doubt  tend 
to  comfort  in  life,  but  they  sometimes  prove  to  be  luxur 
ies  which  it  is  expensive  to  indulge  in  too  freely. 


CHAPTER   V 

THE    SIEGE    OF    BOSTON 

BUNKER  HILL  revealed  at  once  the  strength 
and  weakness  of  the  Americans.  At  Bunker 
Hill,  as  at  Concord  and  Lexington,  it  was  the 
people  who  had  risen  up  and  fought,  just  as  fifteen  years 
later  it  was  the  people  of  France  who  rose  up  and  defied 
Europe,  unchaining  a  new  force  which  the  rulers  of 
Europe  despised  until  it  crushed  them.  So  England  de 
spised  her  colonists,  and  when  they  turned  against  her 
they  started  the  great  democratic  movement  and  let  loose 
against  the  mother-country  a  new  force,  that  of  a  whole 
people  ready  to  do  battle  for  their  rights.  The  power 
which  this  new  force  had  and  the  native  fighting  qualities 
of  the  American  soldiers  were  vividly  shown  at  Bunker 
Hill,  and  there,  too,  was  exhibited  its  weakness.  The 
popular  army  was  unorganized,  divided  into  separate 
bands  quite  independent  of  each  other,  undisciplined,  and 
unled.  Hence  the  ultimate  defeat  which  prevision,  organ 
ization,  and  tenacity  of  purpose  would  have  so  easily  pre 
vented.  What  the  people  could  do  fighting  for  them 
selves  and  their  own  rights  was  plain.  Equally  plain  was 
the  point  where  they  failed.  Could  they  redeem  this 
failure  and  eradicate  the  cause  of  it  ?  Could  the  popular 
force  be  organized,  disciplined,  trained,  and  made  subor- 

VOL.  I.— 7  97 


98  THE  STORY   OF  THE   REVOLUTION 

dinate  to  a  single  purpose  ?  In  other  words,  could  it 
produce  a  leader,  recognize  him  when  found,  concentrate 
in  him  all  the  power  and  meaning  it  had,  rise  out  of 
anarchy  and  chaos  into  order  and  light,  and  follow  one 
man  through  victory  and  defeat  to  ultimate  triumph  ? 
These  were  the  really  great  questions  before  the  American 
people  when  the  smoke  had  cleared  and  the  bodies  had 
been  borne  away  from  the  slopes  of  Breed's  Hill. 

In  such  a  time  few  men  look  below  the  surface  of 
events  and  the  actors  in  it  must  deal  with  the  hard,  insist 
ent  facts  which  press  close  against  them.  No  one  realized 
that  the  American  people  had  been  brought  suddenly  to  a 
harder  trial  than  facing  British  bayonets.  No  one  under 
stood  at  the  moment  that  it  must  quickly  be  determined 
whether  the  popular  movement  was  able  to  bring  forth  a 
leader,  and  then  submit  to  and  obey  him,  or  whether  after 
an  outburst  of  brave  fighting  it  was  to  fall  back  into 
weakness,  confusion,  and  defeat. 

Yet  this  mighty  question  was  upon  them,  and  even 
while  they  were  still  counting  their  dead  in  Boston  and 
Cambridge,  the  leader  was  on  his  way  to  put  his  fortune, 
which  was  that  of  the  American  Revolution,  to  the  test. 
On  June  2ist  Washington  started  from  Philadelphia.  He 
had  ridden  barely  twenty  miles  when  he  met  the  messen 
gers  from  Bunker  Hill.  There  had  been  a  battle,  they  said. 
He  asked  but  one  question,  "  Did  the  militia  fight?" 
When  told  how  they  had  fought,  he  said,  "  Then  the  liber 
ties  of  the  country  are  safe,"  and  rode  on.  Give  him  men 
who  would  fight  and  he  would  do  the  rest.  Here  was  a 
leader  clearly  marked  out.  Would  the  people  risen  up  in 
war  recognize  the  great  fact  and  acknowledge  it  ? 

A  pause  in   New   York   long  enough    to   put   Philip 


THE   SIEGE  OF   BOSTON 


99 


WASHINGTON  TAKING   COMMAND   OF  THE  ARMY. 

On  July  j,  /7/J-,  at  about  nine  in  the  morning,  Washington,  with  several  of  the  general  officers,  went  on  foot 
(not  mounted,  as  he  is  often  represented)  to  the  elm  still  standing  by  the  edge  of  Cambridge  Common,  and  there 
said  a  few  words  to  the  assembled  troops,  drew  his  sword  and  took  command  of  the  Continental  Army. 

Schuyler  in  charge  of  military  affairs  in  that  colony,  and 
Washington  pushed  on  through  Connecticut.  On  July  2d 
he  was  at  Watertown,  where  he  met  the  Provincial  Con 
gress  of  Massachusetts.  An  hour  later,  being  little  given 


ioo          THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

to  talk,  he  rode  on  to  Cambridge  and  reached  headquar 
ters.  The  next  day  the  troops  were  all  drawn  out  on 
parade,  and  in  their  presence,  and  that  of  a  great  con 
course,  Washington  drew  his  sword  and  formally  took 
command  of  the  American  army.  The  act  performed, 
cheers  and  shouts  broke  forth,  and  the  booming  of  cannon 
told  the  story  to  the  enemy  in  Boston.  The  people  were 
evidently  with  him.  They  looked  upon  him  as  he  rode 
down  the  lines  and  were  content.  The  popular  movement 
had  found  its  leader,  and  the  popular  instinct  recognized 
him.  Yet  Washington  came  to  the  men  of  New  England 
a  stranger.  They  were  very  different  from  him  in  thought, 
in  habits,  and  in  modes  of  life,  and  like  all  strong  people 
they  were  set  in  their  own  ways  and  disposed  to  be  sus 
picious  of  those  of  others.  But  these  men  of  New  Eng 
land  none  the  less  gave  their  entire  confidence  to  Wash 
ington  at  once  and  never  withdrew  it.  As  General  in  the 
field,  and  later  as  President,  he  always  had  the  loyal  sup 
port  of  these  reserved,  hard-headed,  and  somewhat  cold, 
people.  They  recognized  him  as  a  leader  that  morning 
on  Cambridge  Common,  for  there  was  that  in  his  look  and 
manner  which  impressed  those  who  looked  upon  him  with 
a  sense  of  power.  He  was  a  man  to  be  trusted  and  fol 
lowed,  and  the  keen  intelligence  of  New  England  grasped 
the  fact  at  the  first  glance. 

Washington  did  not  understand  them  quite  as  quickly 
as  they  understood  him,  for  with  the  people  it  was  an  in 
stinct,  while  with  him  understanding  came  from  experience. 
At  first,  too,  it  was  a  rough  experience.  He  found  his  new 
soldiers  independent  in  their  ways,  as  unaccustomed  to  dis 
cipline  as  they  were  averse  to  it,  electing  and  deposing  their 
officers,  disposed  to  insubordination,  and  only  too  ready  to 


THE  SIEGE   OF   BOSTON 


101 


go  off  in  order  to  attend  to  their  domestic  affairs,  and  return 
in  leisurely  fashion  when  their  business  was  done.  To  a  sol 
dier  like  Washington  this  was  all  intolerable,  and  he  wrote 
and  said  many  severe  things  about  them,  no  doubt  accom 
panying  his  words  sometimes  when  he  spoke  with  out- 


VICINITY  OF  THE    WASHINGTON  ELM,  CAMBRIDGE,  AT  THE  PRESENT  TIME. 

In  the  background,  enclosed  by  a  fence  and  7vfth  a  tablet  marking  it  in  front,  is  the  historic   tree  under  -which 
Washington  took  command  of  the  army. 

bursts  of  wrath  before  which  the  boldest  shrank.  The  of 
ficers  and  contractors  troubled  him  even  more  than  the 
men,  for  he  found  them  hard  bargainers,  sharp,  and,  as  it 
often  seemed  to  him,  utterly  selfish.  He  dealt  with  these 
evils  in  the  effective  and  rapid  way  with  which  he  always 
met  such  difficulties.  In  his  own  plain  language  he  made 


102  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

"a  good  slam"  among  the  wrong-doers  and  the  faint 
hearted.  He  broke  several  officers,  put  others  under  ar 
rest,  and  swiftly  changed  the  whole  tone  of  the  army.  He 
had  less  trouble  with  the  rank  and  file  than  with  the  of 
ficers,  but  all  soon  came  straight,  the  criticisms  of  his 
troops  disappear  from  his  letters,  and  six  months  later  he 
praises  them  in  high  terms.  He  entered  on  the  war  with 
an  army  composed  wholly  of  New  England  men.  He 
ended  the  revolution  with  an  army,  after  seven  years'  fight 
ing,  largely  made  up  from  the  same  New  England  people, 
and  then  it  was  that  he  said  that  there  were  no  better 
troops  in  the  world.  The  faults  which  annoyed  him  so 
much  at  the  outset  had  long  since  vanished  under  his 
leadership,  and  the  fine  qualities  of  the  men,  their  cour 
age,  intelligence,  endurance,  and  grim  tenacity  of  purpose 
had  become  predominant. 

Washington,  a  great  commander,  had  the  genius  for 
getting  all  that  was  best  out  of  the  men  under  him,  but 
the  work  of  organizing  and  disciplining  the  army  at  Cam 
bridge  was  the  least  of  the  troubles  which  confronted  him 
when  he  faced  the  situation  at  Boston.  Moreover,  he 
knew  all  the  difficulties,  for  he  not  only  saw  them,  but  he 
was  never  under  delusions  as  to  either  pleasant  or  disagree 
able  facts.  One  of  his  greatest  qualities  was  his  absolute 
veracity  of  mind  ;  he  always  looked  a  fact  of  any  sort 
squarely  in  the  face,  and  this  is  what  he  saw  when  he  turned 
to  the  task  before  him.  The  town  of  Boston,  the  richest, 
and  next  to  Philadelphia  the  most  populous  in  the  colonies, 
was  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  who  had  some  twelve 
thousand  regular  troops,  well  armed,  perfectly  disciplined, 
and  thoroughly  supplied  with  every  munition  of  war.  This 
well-equipped  force  had  command  of  the  sea,  and  how 


THE  SIEGE  OF  BOSTON  103 

much  the  sea-power  meant,  Washington  understood  thor 
oughly.  He  knew  with  his  broad  grasp  of  mind  what  no 
one  else  appreciated  at  all,  that  in  the  sea-power  was  the 
key  of  the  problem  and  the  strength  of  the  English.  That 
gone,  all  would  be  easy.  While  England  commanded  the 
sea  the  struggle  was  certain  to  be  long  and  doubtful.  All 
the  later  years  of  the  war,  indeed,  were  devoted  by  Wash 
ington  to  a  combination  by  which  through  the  French  al 
liance  he  could  get  a  sea-control.  When  he  succeeded,  he 
swept  the  chief  British  army  out  of  existence,  and  ended 
the  war.  But  here  at  the  start  at  Boston  the  enemy  had 
control  of  the  sea,  and  there  was  no  \vay  of  getting  it  from 
them.  The  set  task  of  getting  the  British  out  of  Boston 
must  be  performed,  therefore,  while  they  commanded  the 
sea,  and  had  a  powerful  fleet  at  their  backs.  WThat  means 
did  Washington  have  to  accomplish  this  formidable  under 
taking  ?  An  unorganized  army  of  raw  men,  brave  and 
ready  to  fight,  but  imperfectly  armed,  and  still  more  im 
perfectly  disciplined.  The  first  thing  that  Washington  did 
on  taking  command  was  to  count  his  soldiers,  and  at  the 
end  of  eight  days  he  had  a  complete  return,  which  he 
should  have  obtained  in  an  hour,  and  that  return  showed 
him  fourteen  thousand  men  instead  of  the  twenty  thousand 
he  had  been  promised.  What  a  task  it  was  to  drive  from 
Boston  twelve  thousand  regular  troops,  supported  by  a 
fleet ;  and  only  fourteen  thousand  militia  to  do  it  with. 
How  could  it  be  done  ?  Not  by  a  popular  uprising,  for 
uprisings  do  not  hold  out  for  months  with  patient  endur 
ance  and  steady  pushing  toward  a  distant  aim.  No,  this 
was  work  that  must  be  done  by  one  man,  embodying  and 
leading,  it  is  true,  the  great  popular  force  which  had  started 
into  life,  but  still  one  man.  It  was  for  George  Washing- 


104          THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

ton,  with  such  means  as  he  had  or  could  create,  to  take  the 
town,  and  the  story  of  the  siege  of  Boston  is  simply  the 
story  of  how  he  did  it. 

Very  rapidly  discipline  improved,  and  the  militia  took 
on  the  ways  and  habits  of  a  regular  army.  The  lines  were 
extended  and  every  strategic  point  covered,  so  that  in  a 
short  time  it  was  really  impossible  for  the  enemy  to  get 
out  except  by  a  pitched  battle  fought  at  great  disadvan 
tage.  Observers  in  the  army  and  on  the  spot  could  not 
explain  just  how  this  was  all  brought  about,  but  they  knew 
what  was  done,  and  they  saw  the  new  general  on  the  lines 
every  day.  By  the  end  of  July  the  army  was  in  good  form, 
ready  to  fight  and  to  hold  their  works.  Then  it  was  sud 
denly  discovered  that  there  was  no  gunpowder  in  the  camp. 
An  extensive  line  of  works  to  be  defended,  a  well-furnished 
regular  army  to  be  besieged,  and  only  nine  rounds  of  am 
munition  per  man  to  do  it  with.  There  could  hardly  have 
been  a  worse  situation,  for  if  under  such  conditions  the 
enemy  were  to  make  a  well-supported  sally,  they  could  only 
be  resisted  for  a  few  minutes  at  most.  Washington  faced 
the  peril  in  silence  and  without  wavering.  Hard-riding 
couriers  were  despatched  all  over  the  country  to  every  vil 
lage  and  town  to  ask  for,  and,  if  need  be,  seize  powder.  A 
vessel  was  even  sent  to  the  Bermudas,  where  it  was  re 
ported  some  gunpowder  was  to  be  had.  By  these  desper 
ate  efforts  enough  powder  was  obtained  to  relieve  the 
immediate  strain,  but  all  through  the  winter  the  supply 
continued  to  be  dangerously  low. 

The  anxieties  and  labors  of  the  army  and  the  siege  were 
enough  to  tax  the  strongest  will  and  the  keenest  brain  to 
the  utmost,  and  yet  Washington  was  obliged  to  carry  at 
the  same  time  all  the  responsibility  for  military  operations 


A 


By    the     K  I  N  G, 

PROCLAMATION, 


For  fupp  retting  Rebellion  and  Sedition* 


E  O  A'  G  K 


i  i  LRFAS  many  of  Our  Subjects  in  divers  Parts  of  Our  Colonies   and  Plantations 
m    North  America,   nulled   by    dangerous   and   ill-defigning  Men,    and  forgetting 
3|2fj(|  tnc   Allegiance  \\hich    they  owe  to    the    Power    that   has   protected  and  Curtained 
i  <.m,     alter   various    diibrdcrly     A  els    committed    in   Difiurbancc  or    the  1'ublick. 
BSSro  I'eutc,    to   the    Obftruftion  of  iauful  Commerce,    and.  to  the  Opprcffion  of  Our 
'jfteiffl1   loyal   Sub'tcls   carrying  on   the   lame,  have    at   length  proceeded  to  an   open  and 


ucd   Rebellion,   by  arraying    ihcmfelves  in   boftile  Manner   to  withftar 
.xution  ot    the    Law,   a. id  traitoro  .'  g,     ordering,    and   lew-mi 

'  againft  Us-   And  whereas    thcr-   •     **  ; '-.'icau  n'.at  liich  RebelHoi 

iiiucn  promoted'  nna' encouraged  ly  the  traitorous   Corrcfpona^nCC,    Counfcls,    and  Comf 
divers  wicked  and   uclperate  Put  Ions  within  this  Realm  :   To  the  End  therefore  that  none  of  Our  S 


the 
War 
hath 

it   of 
•lefts 


!c£l  or  violate  tlieir  Duty  through  Ignorance  thereof,  or  through  any  Doubt  of  the  Protection 
Khich  the  Law  will  afford  to  their  Loyalty  and  Zeal  ;  We  have  thought  fit,  by  and  with  the  Advice  of 
Our  Pi  ivy  Council,  to  iflue  this  Our  Royal  Proclamation,  hereby  declaring  that  not  only  all  Our 

!-  nil  and  Military:  arc  obliged  to  exert  their  utmoit  Endeavours  to  fupprcfs  fuch  Rcl)ellion,  and 
[»  1  iir.g  the  Traitors  to  Jufticc  ;  but  that  all  Our  Subjects  of  this  Realm  and  the  Dominions  thereunto 
belonging  are  Ix-'iiul  by  Lav,  to  be  aiding  and  atfiHing  in  the  SupprefFion  of  (uch  Rebellion,  and  to 
;tikloie  aiul  make  known  all  traitorous  Conl^iracies  and  Attempts  againft  Us,  Our  Crown  and  Dignity; 
And  We  do  accordingly  ftriclly  charge  and  command  all  Our  Officers  as  well  Civil  as  Military, 
ind  all  other  Our  obedient  and  loyal  Subjects,  to  ufe  their  utmoit  Endeavours  to  withitand  and 
(uch  Rebellion,  and  to  dilclole  and  make  known  all  Trcalbns  and  traitor  ou^  Con/pi- 
.i.i'.s  which  they  iliall  know  to  be  againit  Us,  Our  Crown  and  Dignity;  and  foi  ih.it  J'urpole, 
hat  they  tranimit  to  One  of  Our  Principal  Secretaries  of  State,  or  other  proper  Othcci,  due  and 
"Jl  Information  of  all  Pcrfons  who  (hall  be  found  carrying  on  Correlpondcnce  wuh,  <>j  in  any 

or  Degree  aiding  or  abetting  the  Perfbns  now  in  open  Arms  and  Rebellion  :i  .luill  Our 
."ovtinment  within  any  of  Our  Colonies  and  Plantations  in  North  America,  in  outer  to  bung  to 
"oiuli^n  Punifhment  the  Authors,  Perpetrators,  and  Abettors  of  fuch  traitorous  Defigns. 


Given  at  Our  Court  at  St.  James's,  the  Twenty-third  Day  of  /l'.,ynfi,    <V. 
levcn  hundred  and  fevcnty-five,  in  the  Fifteenth  Year  of  Our  ! 

God    fave    the    King. 


thouhnd 


LONDON 

Printed  by  Ckt,  <  let  Eyre  and  William  Strahan,   Printers  to  tlie 


Kin's  moft  lixcell 


A    PROCLAMATION  BY  KING   GEORGE  III.,  AUGUST,  7775. 
Reproduced  from  one  of  the  original  broadsides  in  Dr.  Emmet's  collection  no7u  in  the  Lenox  Library. 


i o6  THE  STORY   OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

everywhere.  He  was  watching  Johnson  and  his  Indians 
in  the  valley  of  the  Mohawk,  and  Tryon  and  the  Tories  in 
New  York.  He  was  urged  to  send  troops  to  this  place 
and  that,  and  he  had  to  consider  every  demand  and  say 
"  no  "  as  he  did  to  Connecticut  and  Long  Island  when  he 
thought  that  the  great  objects  of  his  campaign  would  be 
injured  by  such  a  diversion.  At  the  same  time  he  planned 
and  sent  out  expeditions  aimed  at  a  distant  but  really  vital 
point  which  showed  how  he  grasped  the  whole  situation, 
and  how  true  his  military  conceptions  were.  He  saw  that 
one  of  the  essential  parts  of  his  problem  was  to  prevent  in 
vasion  from  the  north,  and  that  this  could  be  done  best  by 
taking  possession  of  Canada.  Success  in  this  direction  was 
possible,  if  at  all,  only  by  an  extremely  quick  and  early 
movement,  for  in  a  very  short  time  the  British  would  be 
so  strong  in  the  valley  of  the  St.  Lawrence  that  any  at 
tempt  on  their  positions  would  be  quite  hopeless.  He 
therefore  sent  one  expedition  under  Montgomery  by  Lake 
Champlain  to  Montreal,  and  another  under  Arnold  through 
Maine  to  meet  the  New  York  forces  at  Quebec.  Mont 
gomery  met  with  entire  success.  He  passed  up  the  lake, 
after  a  siege  took  St.  Johns,  and  then  pressed  on  to  Mon 
treal,  which  he  captured  without  difficulty.  Meantime 
Arnold,  with  some  eleven  hundred  men,  was  making  his 
desperate  march  through  the  forests  of  Maine.  Even  now 
a  large  part  of  his  route  is  still  a  wilderness.  He  encoun 
tered  every  obstacle  and  hardship  that  it  is  possible  to  con 
ceive — hunger,  cold,  exposure,  terrible  marches  through 
primeval  woods,  voyages  down  turbulent  streams,  where 
boats  were  sunk  and  upset  with  the  drowning  of  men  and 
loss  of  provisions  and  munitions.  Still  Arnold  kept  on 
with  the  reckless  daring  and  indomitable  spirit  so  charac- 


THE   SIEGE   OF   BOSTON 


107 


teristic  of  the  man.  With  a  sadly  diminished  force  he  came 
out  at  last  in  the  open  country,  and  after  a  short  rest  pushed 
on  to  the  St.  Lawrence.  When  he  reached  Point  Levi, 
opposite  Quebec,  there  was  no  Montgomery  to  meet  him. 
Nevertheless  he  crossed  the  river,  but  his  force  was  too  small 


CAPE   DIAMOND  AND    THE 
CITADEL,    QUEBEC. 


theft. 

bee,  -was  killed. 


to  attack,  and  he  withdrew.  Meantime  Burr,  disguised  as  a 
priest,  reached  Montreal  from  Quebec,  and  Montgomery 
came  down  the  river  and  joined  Arnold,  but  only  with  some 
three  hundred  men.  It  was  now  December  and  a  Canadian 
winter  was  upon  them.  Nevertheless,  the  united  forces,  to 
the  number  of  a  thousand,  made  a  desperate  attack  upon  the 


io8 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 


TABLET  ON  THE  ROCKS  OF  CAPE  DIA 
MOND  BEARING  THE  INSCRIPTION 
"MONTGOMERY  FELL,  DEC'R  31,  1775." 


city.  Montgomery  was  killed  in  the  assault,  and  his  men 
repulsed.  Arnold  penetrated  into  the  city,  was  badly 
wounded,  and  forced  to  leave  the  field.  Carleton,  enabled 
by  the  defeat  of  Montgomery  to  concentrate  his  defence, 
forced  Morgan,  who  had  succeeded  to  the  command  after 
some  desperate  fighting  in  the  streets,  to  surrender.  This 
was  really  the  end  of  the  attempt  on  Canada,  despite  the 
fact  that  Arnold,  with  only  five  hundred  men,  held  Carle- 
ton  besieged  in  Quebec  all  winter.  But  although  new 


THE  SIEGE   OF   BOSTON 


109 


generals  came,  and  in  the  spring  Washington  at  great  risk 
detached  reinforcements  from  his  own  army  to  aid  the  men 
in  the  north,  on  the  breaking  up  of  the  ice  in  the  river  the 
Americans  were  compelled  to  withdraw  from  Quebec  and 
later  from  Montreal.     The  attempt  had  failed,  the  north 
and  the  valley  of  the  St.  Lawrence  remained  open  to  Eng 
land,  and  Canada  was  lost   to  the  Americans.     It  was  a 
well-conceived,  boldly  planned   expedition,  defeated  by  a 
series  of  unforeseen  obstacles  here,  and  a  little 
delay  there  ;  but  its  failure  was  very  fruitful  of 
consequences,  both  near  and  remote, 
just  as  its  success  would  have  been  in 
another  direction. 

Planning  and  carrying 
on  bold  schemes,  like  this 
against  Canada,  was  far 
more  to  Washington's  taste 
than  the  grinding,  harass 
ing  work  of  slowly  or 
ganizing  an  army,  and 
without  proper 
material  pressing 
siege -operations. 
Still  he  kept  every 
thing  well  in  hand. 
He  chafed  under 
the  delays  of  the 
work  at  Boston  ; 
he  knew  that  at 
this  juncture  time 

THE  MONUMENT  TO  MONTGOMERY,    ST.   PAUL'S 

helped     England,  CHURCH,  NEW  YORK  CITY. 

he      Wanted      tO  Erected  ty  the  order  of  Congress,  January  25.  1776. 


' 


no          THE  STORY   OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

make  the  fullest  use  of  the  first  energy  of  the  popular  en 
thusiasm.  Early  in  September  he  proposed  an  attack  on 
Boston  by  boats  and  along  Roxbury  Neck,  and  a  little 
later  another  of  similar  character.  In  both  cases  his  coun 
cil  of  officers  went  against  him,  and  he  had  not  reached  that 
point  of  discipline  where  he  could  afford  to  disregard  them 
and  follow  his  own  opinion  alone,  as  he  so  often  did  after 
ward. 

Councils  of  officers,  however,  were  not  his  only  trouble 
or  hindrance.  Congress  wanted  speed  ;  while  his  officers 
thought  him  rash,  Congress  thought  him  slow,  and  de 
manded  the  impossible.  They  wondered  why  he  did  not 
at  once  secure  the  harbor  without  ships,  and  urged  him  to 
set  up  batteries  and  open  on  the  town  when  he  had  neither 
siege-guns  nor  powder.  Congress  had  to  be  managed,  and 
so  did  the  Provincial  Congresses,  each  unreasonable  in  its 
own  way,  and  from  them,  moreover^  he  was  compelled  to 
procure  money  and  supplies  and  men.  With  infinite  tact 
and  patience  he  succeeded  with  them  all.  Enlistments  ex 
pired,  and  he  was  obliged  to  lose  his  old  army  and  replace  it 
with  a  new  one — not  a  pleasant  or  easy  undertaking  in  the 
presence  of  the  enemy  and  in  the  midst  of  a  New  England 
winter.  But  it  was  done.  Privateers  began  to  appear,  and 
rendered  great  service  by  their  attacks  on  the  enemy's  com 
merce.  They  brought  in  many  valuable  prizes,  and  Wash 
ington  had  to  be  a  naval  department,  and,  in  a  measure,  an 
admiralty  court.  Again  the  work  was  done.  Gage  treated 
American  prisoners  badly.  With  dignity,  firmness,  and  a 
good  deal  of  stern  vigor,  Washington  brought  him  to 
terms  and  taught  him  a  much-needed  lesson  both  in  hu 
manity  and  manners. 

So  the  winter  wore  on.      Unable  to  attack,  and  with  no 


THE  A  TTA  CA"  ON  QUEBEC. 

The  Second  Division,  under  Arnold,  attacking.     Arnold,  tuho  led  this  part  of  the  at  tad-,  - 
disabled  by  a  inni,ket-~*ound  in  the  knee,  and  was  obliged  to  leave  thtjuld. 


THE  SIEGE   OF   BOSTON  113 

material  for  siege-operations,  he  could  only  hold  the  Brit 
ish  where  they  were  and  make  their  situation  difficult  hy 
cutting  off  all  supplies  by  land  with  his  troops,  and  by 
water  with  his  privateers.  It  was  dreary  work,  and  no  real 
advance  seemed  to  be  made,  until  in  February  the  well-di 
rected  efforts  began  to  tell  and  light  at  last  began  to  break. 
Powder  by  great  diligence  had  been  gathered  from  every 
corner,  and  the  Americans  now  had  it  in  sufficient  quantity 
to  justify  attack.  Henry  Knox,  sent  to  Ticonderoga,  had 
brought  thence  on  sledges  over  the  snow  the  cannon  cap 
tured  by  Ethan  Allen  that  memorable  May  morning.  Thus 
supplied,  Washington  determined  to  move.  His  first  plan 
was  to  cross  the  ice  with  his  army  and  storm  the  city.  This 
suited  his  temperament,  and  also  was  the  shortest  way,  as 
well  as  the  one  which  would  be  most  destructive  and  ruin 
ous  to  the  enemy.  Again,  however,  the  officers  protested. 
They  prevented  the  crossing  on  the  ice,  but  they  could  no 
longer  hold  back  their  chief.  If  he  could  not  go  across  the 
ice,  then  he  would  go  by  land,  but  attack  he  would.  On 
the  evening  of  Monday,  March  4th,  under  cover  of  a  heavy 
bombardment,  he  marched  a  large  body  of  troops  to  Dor 
chester  Heights,  and  began  to  throw  up  redoubts.  All  night 
long  Washington  rode  up  and  down  the  lines  encouraging 
his  men  and  urging  them  to  work.  He  knew  them  now, 
they  had  always  believed  in  him,  and  under  such  leadership 
and  with  such  men,  the  works  grew  rapidly.  When  morn 
ing  broke  there  was,  as  on  June  i  7th,  great  stir  and  excite 
ment  in  Boston,  and  it  was  plain  that  the  British  meant  to 
come  out  and  attack.  Washington's  spirits  rose  at  the 
prospect.  He  had  had  enough  of  siege-work,  and  was 
eager  to  fight.  Meantime  his  men  worked  on  hard  and 
fast.  The  British  troops  made  ready,  but  a  gale  came  up 

VOL.  I.— 8 


ii4          THE  STORY   OF  THE   REVOLUTION 

and  tney  could  not  cross  the  bay.  The  next  day  there  was 
a  storm  and  heavy  rain.  The  next  day  it  was  too  late  ;  the 
works  were  too  strong  to  be  attempted  successfully.  Then 
the  Ticonderoga  guns  began  to  send  shot  and  shell  into 
Boston,  and  parleys  were  opened.  Howe,  through  the 
selectmen,  promised  to  evacuate  if  not  molested,  but  if  at 
tacked  declared  that  he  would  burn  the  town.  Washing 
ton  assented  to  this  proposition,  but  still  Howe  delayed, 
and  Washington,  not  fond  of  delays  or  uncertainties,  ad 
vanced  his  works.  The  hint  was  enough,  and  on  March 
i  ;th,  amid  disorder  and  pillage,  leaving  cannon  and  much 
else  behind,  eleven  thousand  British  troops  with  about  a 
thousand  Boston  Tories  went  on  board  the  fleet,  while 
Washington  marched  in  at  the  other  end  of  the  town.  The 
fleet  lingered  at  the  entrance  to  the  harbor,  closely  watched 
by  Washington,  for  a  few  days,  and  then  sailed  away  to 
Halifax. 

The  victory  was  won.  Boston  was  in  the  hands  of  the 
Americans,  and  so  remained.  Except  for  raids  here  and 
there,  and  an  attack  on  Newport,  the  war  in  New  England 
was  over,  and  those  colonies,  the  richest  and  most  populous, 
with  their  long  coast-line  and  ample  harbors,  were  set  free 
to  give  all  their  strength  to  the  general  cause  without  being 
held  back  or  distracted  by  fighting  for  their  own  firesides. 
To  have  driven  the  British  from  New  England  and  from 
her  capital  city  in  this  complete  and  rapid  fashion,  was  not 
only  a  victory,  but  an  achievement  of  immense  importance 
toward  the  ultimate  success  of  the  Revolution. 

It  was,  moreover,  in  a  purely  military  way,  a  very  re 
markable  feat  of  arms.  We  cannot  improve  on  Washing 
ton's  own  statement,  simple,  concise,  and  sufficient  as  his 
statements  always  are.  "  To  maintain,"  he  said,  "a  post 


THE   SIEGE   OF   BOSTON  115 

within  musket-shot  of  the  enemy  for  six  months  together 
without  powder,  and  at  the  same  time  to  disband  one  army 
and  recruit  another  within  that  distance  of  twenty  odd 
British  regiments  is  more,  probably,  than  was  ever  at 
tempted."  It  was  in  truth  a  daring  attempt,  and  the  suc 
cess  was  extraordinary.  The  beginning  came  from  the 
armed  people  of  the  colonies.  The  final  victory  was  won 
by  the  genius  of  Washington,  whom  the  people  had  the 
wisdom  to  obey  and  the  sense  and  strength  to  follow. 

The  Americans  outnumbered  the  British,  but  not  more 
than  in  the  proportion  of  three  to  two,  and  this  was  little 
enough,  as  they  had  to  hold  the  outer  and  besieging  line. 
They  were  inferior  to  their  opponents  in  discipline,  equip 
ment,  organization,  experience,  and,  worst  of  all,  they  had 
no  sea-power  whatever.  All  English  soldiers  were  brave, 
and  there  could  be  no  question  about  the  unflinching  cour 
age  of  the  men  who  had  stormed  the  works  at  Bunker  Hill. 
How  was  it  then  that  with  all  the  odds  in  their  favor,  when 
they  should  have  broken  the  American  lines  and  defeated 
the  American  army  again  and  again,  how  was  it  that  they 
were  taken  in  an  iron  grip,  held  fast  all  winter,  reduced  to 
great  straits,  and  finally  driven  ignominiously  from  the  town 
they  held  by  the  army  and  the  general  they  despised  ?  The 
answer  is  really  simple,  difficult  as  the  question  seems  on 
the  face.  The  American  troops  were  of  just  as  good  fight 
ing  quality  as  the  British,  and  they  were  led  by  a  great 
soldier,  one  of  the  great  soldiers,  as  events  showed,  of  the 
century.  The  British  were  commanded  by  some  physically 
brave  gentlemen  of  good  family  and  slender  intellect. 
Such  men  as  these  had  no  chance  against  a  general  like 
Washington  so  long  as  he  had  men  who  would  fight  and 
enough  gunpowder  for  his  cannon  and  muskets.  He 


ii6          THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

closed  in  on  them,  using  to  the  utmost  his  inferior  re 
sources,  and  finally  had  them  in  so  tight  a  grip  that  there 
was  nothing  for  them  but  fiight  or  a  bloody  defeat  in  the 
streets  of  a  burning  town.  It  was  neither  by  accident  nor 
by  cowardice  that  the  British  were  beaten  out  of  Boston  ; 
it  was  by  the  military  capacity  of  one  man  triumphing 
over  extraordinary  difficulties  of  his  own  and  helped  by 
unusual  stupidity  and  incompetence  on  the  part  of  his 
enemy  whom  he  accurately  estimated. 

How  was  it,  to  go  a  step  farther,  that  such  men  as 
Gage  and  Clinton  and  Howe  were  sent  out  to  conquer  men 
of  their  own  race,  risen  in  arms,  and  led  by  George  Wash 
ington  ?  For  the  same  reason  that  the  British  soldiers  were 
marched  up  the  slopes  of  Bunker  Hill  as  if  they  were  go 
ing  on  a  holiday  parade.  It  was  because  England's  Minis 
ters  and  people  knew  nothing  of  the  Americans,  wanted  to 
know  nothing,  despised  them,  thought  them  cowards,  and 
never  dreamed  for  one  moment  that  they  could  produce  a 
great  general.  There  was  absolutely  no  reason  in  the 
nature  of  things  why  the  Americans  should  not  be  able  to 
fight  and  bring  forth  great  commanders.  As  a  matter  of 
fact  they  did  both,  but  as  they  were  no  longer  native  Eng 
lishmen,  England  believed  they  could  do  neither.  Bunker 
Hill  threw  some  light  on  the  first  theory  ;  George  Wash 
ington  riding  into  Boston  in  the  wake  of  a  flying  British 
army,  illuminated  the  second.  England  learned  nothing 
from  either  event,  except  that  coercion  would  require  larger 
forces  than  she  had  anticipated  ;  still  less  did  she  suspect 
that  the  men  who  could  write  the  State  papers  of  Congress 
could  also  be  diplomatists  and  find  powerful  allies.  She 
was  about  to  win  some  military  successes,  as  was  to  be  ex 
pected  with  the  odds  so  largely  in  her  favor.  Encouraged 


THE  SIEGE   OF   BOSTON  117 

by  them,  she  paid  no  real  heed  either  to  Bunker  Hill  or 
Boston,  and  neither  revised  her  estimate  of  the  American 
soldier,  nor  paid  much  attention  to  his  chief.  Yet  both 
events  were  of  inestimable  importance,  for  one  showed  the 
fighting  quality  of  the  American  people,  the  other  the 
military  capacity  and  moral  force  of  Washington,  and  it  was 
by  the  fighting  of  the  American  soldier  and  the  ability  and 
indomitable  courage  of  Washington  that  the  American 
Revolution  came  to  victory.  Much  else  contributed  to 
that  victory,  but  without  Washington  and  the  soldiers  who 
followed  him,  it  would  have  been  impossible. 


CHAPTER   VI 

THE    SPREAD    OF    REVOLUTION 

IT  would  have  been  a  very  obvious  part  of  good  mili 
tary  judgment  for  the  British  commanders  to  endeavor  to 
force  Washington  away  from  Boston  by  assailing  his  com 
munications  to  the  west  and  south,  or  by  attacks  in  other 
important  quarters,  which  would  have  demanded  relief 
from  the  main  army.  Military  judgment,  however,  was 
not  a  quality  for  which  the  British  generals  in  Boston  were 
conspicuous.  Still  less  is  it  conceivable  that  any  of  them 
should  have  taken  a  broad  view  of  the  whole  military  situ 
ation  and  sought  to  compel  Washington  to  raise  the  siege 
by  a  movement  in  another  direction,  as  Scipio,  to  take  a 
proverbial  example,  forced  Hannibal  out  of  Italy  by  the 
invasion  of  Africa.  This  none  the  less  was  one  intelligent 
course  to  pursue.  Another  equally  sensible  would  have 
been  to  concentrate  the  war  at  Boston,  and  by  avoiding  col 
lisions  and  cultivating  good  relations  with  the  people  of 
the  other  colonies  endeavor  to  separate  Massachusetts  from 
the  rest  of  the  continent.  The  British  took  neither  course, 
and  so  lost  the  advantages  of  both.  They  did  enough  to 
alarm  and  excite  the  other  colonies  and  to  make  them  feel 
that  the  cause  of  Massachusetts  was  their  own,  and  yet  they 
did  not  do  anything  sufficiently  effective  to  even  distract 
Washington's  attention,  much  less  loosen  his  iron  grip  on 
Boston. 

118 


THE   SPREAD    OF    REVOLUTION  121 

In  October,  1775,  Captain  Mowatt  appeared  off  Fal- 
mouth,  in  Maine,  where  the  city  of  Portland  now  stands, 
opened  fire  and  destroyed  the  little  town  by  a  heavy  bom 
bardment.  It  was  an  absolutely  useless  performance  ;  led 
to  nothing,  and  was  hurtful  to  the  British  cause.  Wash 
ington  at  once  made  preparations  to  defend  Portsmouth, 
thinking  that  the  New  Hampshire  town  would  be  the  next 
victim,  but  the  British  had  no  plan,  not  enough  even  to 
make  their  raids  continuous  and  effective.  They  stopped 
with  the  burning  of  Falmouth,  which  was  sufficient  to  alarm 
every  coast-town  in  New  England,  and  make  the  people 
believe  that  their  only  hope  of  saving  their  homes  was  in  a 
desperate  warfare  ;  and  which  at  the  same  time  did  not 
weaken  the  Americans  in  the  least  or  force  Washington 
to  raise  the  siege  of  Boston. 

In  explanation  of  the  attack  on  Falmouth,  it  could  at 
least  be  said  that  it  was  a  New  England  town  and  be 
longed  to  Massachusetts,  and  that  all  New  England  prac 
tically  was  in  arms.  But  even  this  could  not  be  urged  in 
defence  of  the  British  policy  elsewhere.  In  the  middle 
colonies,  where  the  loyalists  were  strong  and  the  people 
generally  conservative,  little  was  done  to  hurry  on  the  Rev 
olution.  The  English  representatives,  except  Tryon,  who 
was  active  and  intriguing  in  New  York,  behaved,  on  the 
whole,  with  sense  and  moderation,  and  did  nothing  to  pre 
cipitate  the  appeal  to  arms. 

In  the  South  the  case  was  widely  different.  The  Brit 
ish  governors  there,  one  after  the  other,  became  embroiled 
with  the  people  at  the  earliest  moment ;  then,  without  be 
ing  in  the  least  personal  danger,  fled  to  a  man-of-war,  and 
wound  up  by  making  some  petty  and  ineffective  attack 
which  could  have  no  result  but  irritation.  Thus  Lord 


122  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

Dunmore  behaved  in  Virginia.  It  is^true  that  that  great 
colony  was  like  New  England,  almost  a  unit  in  the  policy 
of  resistance  to  England,  yet  she  had  committed  no  overt 
act  herself,  and  good  sense  would  seem  to  have  dictated 
every  effort  to  postpone  the  appeal  to  force.  Lord  Dun- 
more,  however,  after  much  arguing  and  proclaiming,  be 
took  himself  to  a  man-of-war.  There  was  nothing  san 
guinary  or  murderous  about  the  American  Revolution,  for 
it  was  waged  on  a  principle  and  not  in  revenge  for  wrongs  ; 
but,  nevertheless,  Lord  Dunmore  apparently  thought  his 
precious  life  was  in  peril.  Having  ensconced  himself 
safely  in  the  war-ship,  with  a  delightful  absence  of  humor 
he  summoned  the  assembly  to  meet  him  at  the  seat  of 
government,  an  invitation  not  accepted  by  the  Burgesses. 
Then  he  dropped  down  the  river,  was  joined  by  some  ad 
ditional  war-ships,  made  an  attack  on  the  village  of  Hamp 
ton,  and  was  repulsed.  Foiled  there,  he  took  position  in 
the  rear  of  Norfolk,  commanding  the  bridge,  and  drove 
off  some  militia.  The  Virginians,  now  thoroughly  aroused, 
called  out  some  troops,  a  sharp  action  ensued,  and  the 
British  forces  were  very  creditably  beaten.  Still  unsat 
isfied,  Lord  Dunmore  proceeded  to  bombard  and  destroy 
Norfolk,  the  largest  and  most  important  town  in  the  col 
ony.  This  was  his  last  exploit,  but  he  had  done  a  good 
deal.  His  flight  had  cleared  the  way  for  an  independent 
provincial  government.  His  attack  on  Hampton  and  the 
fight  at  the  bridge  had  brought  war  into  Virginia,  and  her 
people,  brave,  hardy,  and  very  ready  to  fight,  had  quickly 
crossed  the  Rubicon  and  committed  themselves  to  revolu 
tion.  The  burning  of  Norfolk,  wanton  as  it  was,  added  to 
the  political  resistance  a  keen  sense  of  wrong,  and  a  desire 
for  vengeance  which  were  not  present  before.  The  de- 


THE    SPREAD    OF    REVOLUTION  123 

struction  of  the  Virginia  seaport  also  had  the  effect  of  ex 
citing  and  alarming  the  whole  Southern  seaboard,  and 
brought  no  advantage  whatever  to  the  cause  of  England. 
Altogether,  it  seems  that  Lord  Dunmore's  policy,  if  he  was 
capable  of  having  one,  was  to  spread  the  Revolution  as  fast, 
and  cement  the  union  of  all  the  colonies  as  strongly,  as 
possible. 

Unlike  Virginia,  the  Carolinas  were  sharply  divided  in 
regard  to  the  differences  with  the  mother-country.  In 
North  Carolina  there  was  a  strong  loyalist  party,  the  bulk 
of  which  numerically  was  formed  of  Highlanders  who  had 
come  to  America  since  1 745,  and  conspicuous  among 
whom  were  the  famous  Flora  Macdonald  and  her  husband. 
Martin,  the  Governor  there,  went  through  the  customary 
performances  of  British  governors.  He  stirred  up  one  part 
of  the  community  against  the  other,  set  a  civil  war  on 
foot  in  the  colony,  betook  himself  to  a  man-of-war,  and 
cried  out  for  help  from  England.  The  usual  result  fol 
lowed.  The  loyalists  attacked  the  Minute  Men  under  Cas- 
well,  who  had  posted  themselves  at  a  bridge  from  which 
they  had  taken  the  planks.  The  Highlanders  gallantly 
attempted  to  cross  on  the  beams  but  were  beaten  back,  for 
the  claymore  was  no  match  for  the  rifle.  In  this  way  the 
colony  was  alienated  from  the  Crown,  fighting  was  started, 
the  party  of  revolution  and  resistance  was  left  with  a  clear 
field  and  a  free  hand  as  the  only  positive  force,  to  set  up 
an  independent  government  and  seize  all  authority. 

In  South  Carolina  there  was  a  similar  division  between 
the  people  and  planters  of  the  seaboard,  who  were  on  the 
American  side,  and  the  herdsmen  and  small  farmers  of  the 
interior,  many  of  whom  inclined  strongly  to  the  Crown. 
This  division,  Lord  William  Campbell  the  Governor- 


124  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

made  such  merely  because  he  was  one  of  a  noble  family- 
did  all  in  his  power  to  foment.  British  agents  were  sent 
into  the  western  counties  to  rouse  the  inhabitants,  and  not 
content  with  this,  these  same  agents  began  to  intrigue  with 
the  Indians.  If  any  one  thing  was  more  calculated  than  all 
else  to  make  the  rupture  with  the  mother-country  hopeless, 
it  was  the  idea  of  letting  loose  the  Indians  upon  the  frontier. 
To  incite  this  savage  warfare  was  to  drive  the  Americans  to 
desperation  and  to  convert  even  loyalists  to  the  cause  of 
resistance  and  hatred  against  England.  Yet  the  English 
Ministry  resorted  to  this  inhuman  scheme,  and  in  the 
North  their  Indian  allies  fought  for  them  diligently  and 
damaged  their  cause  irreparably.  The  Indian  intriguing 
in  South  Carolina  did  not,  at  this  time,  come  to  much,  but 
Lord  William  Campbell  apparently  felt  that  he  had  done 
enough.  He  had  stirred  up  strife,  incited  the  patriots  to 
begin  the  work  of  fortifying  Charleston  Harbor,  and  then 
he  departed  to  the  customary  man-of-war,  leaving  his  oppo 
nents  to  take  control  of  the  government  while  he  urged  aid 
from  England,  and  explained  what  cowards  and  poor  creat 
ures  generally  the  Americans  were  from  whom  he  had  run 
away. 

Georgia  was  weak,  the  youngest  of  all  the  colonies,  and 
her  Governor,  Sir  James  Wright,  was  prudent  and  concilia 
tory.  So  the  colony  kept  quiet,  sent  no  delegates  to  the 
first,  and  only  one,  who  was  locally  chosen,  to  the  second 
Congress.  The  condition  of  Georgia  was  a  lesson  as  to 
the  true  policy  of  England  had  her  Ministry  understood 
how  to  divide  the  colonies  one  from  another.  But  they 
seemed  to  think  that  the  way  to  hold  the  colonies  to  Eng 
land  and  to  prevent  their  union,  was  to  make  a  show  of 
force  everywhere.  Such  stupidity,  as  Dr.  Johnson  said, 


THE   SPREAD   OF   REVOLUTION  125 

does  not  seem  in  nature,  but  that  it  existed  is  none  the 
less  certain.  So  in  due  course,  dulness  being  in  full  con 
trol  in  London,  a  small  squadron  appeared  off  Savannah. 
Immediately  the  people  who  had  been  holding  back  from 
revolution  rose  in  arms.  Sir  James  Wright  was  arrested, 
and  the  other  officers  of  the  Crown  fled,  or  were  made 
prisoners.  Three  weeks  later  the  Governor  escaped,  took 
refuge  in  the  conventional  manner  on  a  convenient  man-of- 
war,  and  then  announced  that  the  people  were  under  the 
control  of  the  Carolinas  and  could  only  be  subdued  by 
force.  Thus  Georgia,  menaced  by  England  and  deserted 
by  her  Governor,  passed  over  to  independence  and  organ 
ized  a  government  of  her  own,  when  she  might  have  been 
kept  at  least  neutral,  owing  to  her  position,  her  weakness, 
and  her  exposed  frontier. 

The  actions  of  their  governors  were  sufficient  to  alienate 
the  Southern  colonies  and  push  on  the  movement  toward 
independence,  but  a  far  more  decisive  step  was  taken  by 
the  English  Government  itself.  In  October,  1/75,  the 
King  decided  that  the  South,  which  had  thus  far  done 
nothing  but  sympathize  with  the  North  and  sustain  Massa 
chusetts  in  Congress,  must  be  attacked  and  brought  by 
force  into  a  proper  frame  of  mind.  The  King  therefore 
planned  an  expedition  against  the  Southern  colonies  in 
October  and  decided  that  Clinton  should  have  the  com 
mand.  The  manner  in  which  this  affair  was  managed  is 
an  illustration  of  the  incapacity  of  English  administration, 
which  so  recently,  under  Pitt,  had  sustained  Frederick  of 
Prussia,  and  conquered  North  America  from  the  French. 
Not  until  February  did  the  expedition  under  Admiral 
Parker  sail  with  the  fleet  and  transports  from  Cork.  Not 
until  May  did  Clinton  receive  his  instructions,  and  it  was 


126  THE  STORY   OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

the  third  of  that  month  when  the  fleet,  much  scattered, 
finally  entered  Cape  Fear  River.  The  conduct  of  the  ex 
pedition  conformed  with  its  organization,  and  differences 
between  the  general  and  the  admiral  began  at  once.  Clin 
ton  wanted  to  go  to  the  Chesapeake,  while  Lord  William 
Campbell  urged  an  attack  on  Charleston.  The  latter's 
council  prevailed,  and  after  Cornwallis  had  landed,  de 
stroyed  a  plantation,  and  roused  the  people  of  North 
Carolina  by  a  futile  raid,  the  fleet  departed  for  the  south. 

It  was  the  first  day  of  June  when  news  was  brought  to 
Charleston  that  a  fleet  of  forty  or  fifty  sail  were  some  twenty 
miles  north  of  the  bar.  The  tidings  were  grave  indeed,  but 
South  Carolina  had  improved  the  time  since  Lord  William 
Campbell's  departure  under  the  bold  and  vigorous  leader 
ship  of  John  Rutledge,  who  had  been  chosen  President  of 
the  colony.  Work  had  been  pushed  vigorously  on  the  de 
fences,  and  especially  at  Sullivan's  Island,  where  a  fort  of 
palmetto-wood  was  built  and  manned  under  the  direction 
and  command  of  William  Moultrie.  Continental  troops 
arrived  from  the  North.  First  came  General  Armstrong 
of  Pennsylvania,  then  two  North  Carolina  regiments,  and 
then  the  best  regiment  of  Virginia.  Also  came  General 
Charles  Lee,  to  whom  great  deference  was  paid  on  account 
of  his  rank  in  the  Continental  Army,  and  still  more  be 
cause  he  was  an  Englishman.  As  usual,  however,  Lee  did 
no  good,  and  if  his  advice  had  been  followed  he  would 
have  done  much  harm.  He  made  an  early  visit  to  Sulli 
van's  Island,  pronounced  the  fort  useless,  and  advised  its 
abandonment.  Moultrie,  a  very  quiet  man  of  few  words, 
replied  that  he  thought  he  could  hold  the  fort,  which  was 
all  he  ever  said  apparently  to  any  of  the  prophets  of  evil 
who  visited  him.  At  all  events,  sustained  by  Rutledge,  he 


THE   SPREAD    OF   REVOLUTION 


127 


stayed  quietly  and  silently  where  he  was,  strengthening  the 
fort  and  making  ready  for  an  attack.  Lee,  who  took  the 
British  view  that  British  sol 
diers  were  invincible,  then  pro 
ceeded  to  do  everything  in  his 
power  to  make  them  so,  and 
being  unable  to  induce  Rut- 
ledge  to  order  the  abandon 
ment  of  the  island,  he  with 
drew  some  of  the  troops  and 
then  devoted  himself  to  urging 
Moultrie  to  build  a  bridge  to 
retreat  over.  Moultrie,  how 
ever,  like  many  other  brave 
men,  had  apparently  a  simple 
and  straightforward  mind.  He 
had  come  to  fight,  not  retreat, 
and  he  went  on  building  his  fort  and  paid  little  attention 
to  the  matter  of  the  bridge. 

But  although  Lee  was  doing  all  the  damage  he  could 
by  interfering  with  Moultrie,  the  government  of  the  colony 
gave  the  latter  hearty  backing  and  supported  him  by  well- 
arranged  defences.  Fortunately,  there  was  an  abundance 
of  men  to  draw  upon — all  the  South  Carolina  militia,  the 
continental  troops,  and  the  regiments  from  North  Carolina 
and  Virginia.  Armstrong,  who  acted  cordially  with  Moul 
trie,  was  at  Hadrell's  Point  with  some  fifteen  hundred  men, 
while  Thomson,  of  Orangeburg,  with  nearly  a  thousand 
riflemen  from  the  Carolinas,  was  sent  to  the  island  to  sup 
port  the  garrison.  In  addition  to  this,  Gadsden,  with  the 
first  Carolina  regiment,  occupied  Fort  Johnson,  and  there 
were  about  two  thousand  more  men  in  the  city.  Charles- 


GENERAL    WILLIAM  MOULTRIE. 
From  the  painting  by  John   Trumbitll,  1791. 


128 


THE  STORY  OF  THE   REVOLUTION 


ton    itself    had   also   been  diligently   and   rapidly   fortified 
when  the  Government  heard  of  the  coming  of  the  British  ; 
warehouses  had  been  taken  down  and  batteries  and  works 
established    along   the    water-front.      The 
skill,  thoroughness,  and  intelligence  shown 
in  the  preparations  of  South  Carolina  were 
wholly  admirable,  and  to  them  was  largely 
due  the  victory  wrhich  was  won. 

Zealously,  however,  as  these  prepara 
tions  had  been  made,  they  were  in  a  large 
measure  completed  and  per 
fected  only  after  the  news  of 
the  coming  of  the  British  fleet 
and  army  had  been  received. 
It  seems  almost  incredible 
when  time  was  so  vital  to  suc 
cess  that  the  English  should 
have  given  to  their  opponents 
such  ample  opportunity  to 
make  ready.  But  so  it  was. 
It  was  the  ist  of  June  when 
Parker  came  off  the  bar  with  his  ships,  and  a  month  elapsed 
before  he  attacked.  Such  inefficiency  is  not  easily  under 
stood  ;  nor  is  it  clear  why  the  English  should  have  been 
so  delayed.  They  seem  indeed  to  have  simply  wasted 
their  time.  Not  until  June  /th  did  Clinton  send  on  shore 
his  proclamation  denouncing  the  rebels.  On  the  Qth  he  be 
gan  to  disembark  his  men  on  Long  Island,  having  been 
told  that  there  was  a  practicable  ford  between  that  place 
and  Sullivan's  Island  where  the  fort  stood,  a  piece  of  in 
formation  which  he  did  not  even  take  the  trouble  to  verify. 
On  the  loth  the  British  came  over  the  bar  with  thirty  or 


OLD   ST.    MICHAEL'S    CHURCH. 

CHARLESTON,    S.    C. 

The  Steeple  Served  as  a  Beacon  for  the  Mariners 
of  the  Time. 


THE   SPREAD    OF    REVOLUTION  129 

forty  vessels,  including  the  transports.  What  they  did  dur 
ing  the  ensuing  week  is  not  clear.  Clinton  completed  the 
landing  of  his  troops,  more  than  three  thousand  in  num 
ber,  on  the  island,  which  was  a  naked  sand-bar,  where  the 
men  were  scorched  by  the  sun,  bitten  by  mosquitoes,  forced 
to  drink  bad  water,  and  suffered  from  lack  of  provisions. 
Having  comfortably  established  his  army  in  this  desirable 
spot,  he  then  thoughtfully  looked  for  the  practicable  ford, 
found  there  was  none,  and  announced  the  interesting  dis 
covery  to  Sir  Peter  Parker.  That  excellent  seaman  was 
not  apparently  disturbed.  Indeed,  his  interest  in  Clinton 
seems  to  have  been  of  the  slightest.  He  exercised  his 
sailors  and  marines  in  the  movements  for  entering  a  fort, 
and  felt  sure  of  an  easy  victory,  for  he  despised  the 
Americans,  and  was  confident  that  he  could  get  on  per 
fectly  well  without  Clinton.  In  this  view  he  was  encour 
aged  by  letters  from  the  Governor  of  East  Florida,  who 
assured  him  that  South  Carolina  was  really  loyal,  and  that 
the  fort  would  yield  at  once,  while  he  was  still  further 
cheered  by  the  arrival  of  the  Experiment,  a  fifty-gun  ship. 
Thus  strengthened,  and  with  a  fair  wind,  he  at  last  bore 
down  toward  the  fort  on  June  28th. 

Moultrie  was  entirely  ready.  He  sent  Thomson  with 
the  riflemen  down  toward  the  east  to  watch  Clinton  on 
Long  Island  and  to  prevent  his  crossing,  while  with  four 
hundred  and  fifty  men  he  prepared  to  defend  the  fort  him 
self.  The  attack  began  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
First  two  vessels  shelled  the  fort,  then  four  more  (including 
the  Bristol  and  Experiment,  fifty-gun  ships)  anchored  with 
in  four  hundred  yards  of  the  fort  and  opened  a  heavy  fire. 
The  palmetto  logs  stood  the  shots  admirably,  for  the  balls 
sank  into  the  soft  wood,  which  neither  broke  nor  splint- 

VOL.  I.— 9 


130  THE  STORY   OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

ered.  To  counterbalance  this  good  fortune,  Moultrie,  un 
luckily,  had  very  little  powder  and  received  only  a  small 
additional  supply  later  in  the  day,  so  that  he  was  obliged  to 
husband  his  resources,  and  kept  up  a  slow,  although  steady, 
fire.  It  was,  however,  well  aimed  and  very  destructive. 
The  Bristol  suffered  severely ;  her  cables  were  cut,  and  as 
she  swung  to  the  tide  the  Americans  raked  her.  Three 
fresh  ships  which  came  up  ran  aground.  The  men  in  the 
fort  suffered  but  little,  and  when  the  flag  was  shot  away, 
Sergeant  Jasper  sprang  to  the  parapet  in  the  midst  of  the 
shot  and  shell  and  replaced  it  on  a  halberd.  So  the  day 
slowly  passed.  The  British  kept  up  a  heavy  cannonade, 
while  the  Americans  replied  by  a  slow  and  deadly  fire, 
striking  the  ships  with  almost  every  shot.  Meantime  the 
army  on  Long  Island  assisted  as  spectators.  Clinton  looked 
at  the  place  where  the  ford  should  have  been  and  decided 
not  to  cross.  He  then  put  some  of  his  men  in  boats,  but 
on  examining  Thomson  and  his  riflemen,  perhaps  with 
memories  of  Bunker  Hill  floating  in  his  mind,  concluded 
that  to  attempt  a  landing  would  be  a  mere  waste  of  life. 
So  he  stayed  on  the  sand-bank  and  sweltered,  and  watched 
the  ships.  At  last  the  long  hot  day  drew  to  a  close  and 
Admiral  Parker,  having  suffered  severely,  and  made  no 
impression  whatever  on  the  fort,  slipped  his  cables  and 
dropped  down  to  his  old  anchorage. 

When  morning  came,  the  results  of  the  fighting  were 
apparent.  The  Actaeon  was  aground,  and  was  burned  to 
the  water's  edge.  The  Bristol  had  lost  two  masts,  and  was 
practically  a  wreck.  The  Experiment  was  little  better. 
Altogether,  the  British  lost  two  hundred  and  five  men 
killed  and  wounded,  and  one  man-of-war.  The  Americans 
lost  eleven  men  killed,  and  had  twenty-six  wounded.  It 


THE   SPREAD   OF   REVOLUTION 


133 


was  a  very  well-fought  action,  and  the  honor  of  the  day 
belonged  to  Moultrie,  whose  calm  courage  and  excellent 
dispositions  enabled  him  to  hold  the  fort  and  beat  off  the 
enemy.  Much  was  also  due  to  the  admirable  arrangements 
made  by  the  South  Carolinians,  under  the  lead  of  Rutledge 
who  had  every  important  point  well-covered  and  strongly 
held. 

On  the  side  of  the  British,  to  the  long  and  injurious 
delays  was  added  fatal  blundering  when  they  finally  went 


FORT  MOULTRIE,  AT  THE  PRESENT  DAY. 

On  the  site  of  Fort  Sullivan. 

into  action.  Clinton's  men  were  stupidly  imprisoned  on 
Long  Island,  and  rendered  utterly  useless.  Parker,  in 
stead  of  running  the  fort  and  attacking  the  city,  which 
from  a  naval  point  of  view  was  the  one  thing  to  do,  for 
the  capture  or  destruction  of  the  city  would  have  rendered 
all  outposts  untenable,  anchored  in  front  of  the  fort  within 
easy  range,  and  tried  to  pound  it  down.  It  was  so  well 
built  that  it  resisted  his  cannonade,  and  all  the  advantage 


134          THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

was  with  Moultrie  and  his  men,  who  with  perfect  coolness 
and  steady  aim  cut  the  men-of-war  to  pieces,  and  \vould 
have  done  much  more  execution  if  they  had  been  well 
supplied  with  powder.  It  was  the  same  at  Charleston  as 
elsewhere.  Parker  believed  that  the  Americans  could  not, 
and  would  not,  fight,  but  would  run  away  as  soon  as  he 
laid  his  ships  alongside  and  began  to  fire.  He  never 
stopped  to  think  that  men  who  drew  their  blood  from  Eng 
land,  from  the  Scotch-Irish,  and  from  the  Huguenots,  came 
of  fighting  stocks,  and  that  the  mere  fact  that  they  lived 
in  America  and  not  in  Great  Britain  did  not  necessarily 
alter  their  courage  or  capacity.  So  he  gave  them  ample 
time  to  make  ready,  and  then,  on  the  theory  that  they 
would  run  like  sheep,  he  put  his  ships  up  as  targets  at  close 
range  and  imagined  that  he  would  thus  take  the  fort. 
No  braver  people  lived  than  the  South  Carolinians.  They 
stood  their  ground,  kept  the  fort,  and  fought  all  day 
stripped  to  the  waist  under  the  burning  sun.  After  ten 
hours  Parker  found  his  ships  terribly  cut  up  and  the  fort 
practically  intact.  Whether  during  the  night  he  reflected 
on  what  had  happened,  and  saw  that  his  perfect  contempt 
for  the  Americans  was  the  cause  of  his  defeat,  no  one  now 
can  say.  Certain  it  is,  however,  that  after  exchanging 
recriminations  with  Clinton  he  gave  up  any  idea  of  further 
attack.  Clinton  and  his  regiments  got  off  in  about  three 
weeks  for  New  York,  and  Parker,  as  soon  as  he  was  able, 
departed  \vith  his  fleet  to  refit. 

The  British  expedition,  politically  speaking,  ought  never 
to  have  been  sent  at  all,  for  its  coming  simply  completed 
the  alienation  of  the  Southern  colonies.  From  a  military 
point  of  view,  it  was  utterly  mismanaged  from  beginning 
to  end,  and  the  victory  won  by  South  Carolina,  led  by 


THE   SPREAD    OF    REVOLUTION  135 

Moultrie  and  his  men,  was  of  immense  importance.  It 
consolidated  the  South  and  at  the  same  time  set  them  free 
for  three  years  from  British  invasion,  thus  enabling  them 
to  give  their  aid  when  it  was  needed  in  the  middle  colonies. 
When  war  again  came  upon  them  the  British  had  been  so 
far  checked  that  the  North  was  able  to  come  to  the  help 
of  the  South.  Washington's  victory  at  Boston  and  the  re 
pulse  of  the  British  fleet  at  Charleston,  by  relieving  New 
England  and  the  South,  enabled  the  Americans  to  con 
centrate  in  the  middle  colonies  at  the  darkest  time  when 
the  fate  of  the  revolution  was  in  suspense.  The  failure  of 
England  to  hold  her  position  in  Massachusetts,  or  to  main 
tain  her  invasion  of  the  South,  was  most  disastrous  to  her 
cause.  Either  by  political  management  or  force  of  arms, 
she  should  have  separated  these  regions  from  the  great 
central  provinces.  She  failed  in  both  directions,  and  only 
did  enough  to  drive  the  colonies  together  and  to  encourage 
the  Americans  to  fight. 


CHAPTER  VII 

INDEPENDENCE 

AFTER  they  had  provided  themselves  with  a  General 
and  an  army,  and  the  General  had  ridden  away 
to  Boston,  Congress  found  themselves  in  a  new 
position.  They  had  come  into  existence  to  represent,  in 
a  united  way,  the  views  of  the  colonies  in  regard  to  the 
differences  which  had  arisen  with  the  mother-country, 
a  duty  they  had  performed  most  admirably.  The  State 
papers  in  which  they  had  set  forth  their  opinions  and 
argued  their  case  were  not  only  remarkable,  but  they 
had  commanded  respect  and  admiration  even  in  England, 
and  had  attracted  attention  on  the  Continent  of  Europe. 
This  was  the  precise  business  for  which  they  had  been 
chosen,  and  they  had  executed  their  commission  with 
dignity  and  ability.  They  had  elevated  their  cause  in  the 
eyes  of  all  men,  and  had  behaved  with  wisdom  and  pru 
dence.  But  this  work  of  theirs  was  an  appeal  to  reason,  and 
the  weapons  were  debate  and  argument  with  which  while 
they  were  trying  to  convince  England  of  the  justice  of 
their  demands,  they  had  strengthened  the  opinions  and 
sharpened  the  convictions  of  their  own  people.  Thus  had 
they  stimulated  the  popular  movement  which  had  brought 
Congress  into  existence,  and  thus  did  they  quicken  the 
march  of  events  which  bore  them  forward  even  in  their 

136 


INDEPENDENCE  137 

own  despite.  While  they  resolved  and  argued  and  drafted 
addresses  and  petitions  in  Philadelphia,  other  Americans 
fought  at  Concord  and  Bunker  Hill  and  Ticonderoga. 
While  they  discussed  and  debated,  an  army  of  their  fellow- 
citizens  gathered  around  Boston  and  held  a  British  army 
besieged.  Thus  was  the  responsibility  of  action  forced 
upon  them.  They  could  not  escape  it.  They  had  them 
selves  helped  to  create  the  situation  which  made  the  battles 
in  Massachusetts  the  battles  of  all  the  colonies  alike.  So 
they  proceeded  to  adopt  the  army,  make  generals,  and 
borrow  money.  In  other  words,  under  the  pressure  of 
events,  these  men  who  had  assembled  merely  to  consult  and 
resolve  and  petition,  suddenly  became  a  law-making  and 
executive  government.  For  the  first  of  these  functions, 
thanks  to  the  natural  capacity  of  the  race,  they  were  suf 
ficiently  well  adapted  to  meet  the  emergency.  If  they 
could  pass  resolutions,  publish  addresses,  and  put  forth 
arguments,  as  they  had  done  with  signal  ability,  they 
were  entirely  capable  of  passing  all  the  laws  necessary 
for  a  period  of  revolution.  But  when  it  came  to  the 
business  of  execution  and  administration,  they  were  almost 
entirely  helpless.  That  they  had  no  authority  was  but  the 
least  of  their  difficulties,  for  authority  they  could  and  did 
assume.  Far  more  serious  was  the  fact  that  they  had  no 
assurance  that  anything  they  did  or  said  would  be  heeded 
or  obeyed,  for  they  represented  thirteen  colonies,  each 
one  of  which  believed  itself  to  be  sovereign  and  on  an 
equality  with  the  Congress.  They  were  obliged  there 
fore  to  trust  solely  to  the  force  of  circumstances  and 
to  public  opinion  for  obedience  to  their  decrees,  and  al 
though  this  obedience  came  after  a  halting  fashion  under 
the  pressure  of  war,  it  rested  on  very  weak  foundations. 


138  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

They  had  no  frame  of  government  whatever,  no  organiza 
tion,  no  chief  executive,  no  departments  for  the  transaction 
of  the  public  business.  Yet  they  were  compelled  to  carry  on 
a  war,  and  war  depends  but  little  on  legislation  and  almost 
wholly  on  executive  action.  No  legislative  body  is  really 
fit  for  executive  work  ;  and  able,  wise,  and  patriotic  as  the 
members  of  our  first  Congress  were,  they  could  not  over 
come  this  fatal  defect.  They  chose  committees  as  a  matter 
of  course,  and  this  mitigated  the  inherent  evils  of  the 
situation,  but  was  very  far  from  removing  them.  They 
were  still  a  legislative  body  trying  to  do  in  various  direc 
tions  work  which  only  a  single  man  could  properly  under 
take.  Here  then  was  the  great  weakness  of  the  American 
cause,  and  yet  it  could  not  be  avoided.  A  Congress  with 
out  power  and  forced  to  operate  through  thirteen  distinct 
sovereignties  was  the  only  executive  government  with 
which  the  American  Revolution  began,  and  it  never  be 
came  much  better,  although  some  improvements  were 
effected.  At  the  outset,  moreover,  the  Congress  was  not 
clear  as  to  just  what  it  meant  to  do.  They  were  engaged 
in  actual  and  flagrant  war  with  England,  and  at  the  same 
time  were  arguing  and  reasoning  with  the  mother-country 
and  trying  to  come  to  terms  of  peaceful  settlement  with 
her.  They  despatched  George  Washington  to  beleaguer 
a  British  army,  and  at  the  same  time  clung  to  their  alle 
giance  to  the  British  Crown.  When  events  forced  them  to 
action  under  these  conditions,  the  feebleness  of  Congress 
as  an  executive  government  soon  became  painfully  ap 
parent. 

They  sent  Washington  off  with  nothing  but  his  com 
mission,  and  hoped  that  they  could  in  one  campaign  bring 
about  a  treaty  with  England.  The  New  York  Provincial 


INDEPENDENCE  139 

Congress  came  forward  with  a  plan  of  peaceful  reconcilia 
tion,  which  was  all  very  well,  if  England  had  been  willing 
to  listen  to  anything  of  that  sort,  and  the  Continental 
Congress  still  labored  under  the  same  delusion.  Yet  there 
were  the  hard  facts  of  the  situation  continually  knocking 
at  the  door  and  insisting  on  an  answer.  So,  even  while 
they  were  considering  plans  for  peace,  they  were  obliged 
to  act.  Money  had  to  be  obtained  in  some  way,  for 
schemes  of  reconciliation  paid  no  bills,  and  they  had 
adopted  an  army  and  made  a  general.  How  were  they  to 
get  it?  They  had  no  authority  to  impose  taxes.  It  is 
true  that  they  could  have  assumed  this  as  they  did  much 
other  authority,  but  they  had  neither  the  power  nor  the 
machinery  to  collect  taxes  if  they  imposed  them.  The 
collection  of  taxes  could  not  be  assumed,  for  it  was  some 
thing  to  be  done  by  proper  executive  force,  of  which  they 
were  destitute.  Thus  pressed,  they  resorted  to  the  easy 
and  disastrous  expedient  of  issuing  continental  bills  of 
credit,  merely  pledging  the  colonies  to  redeem  them,  and 
without  any  provision  for  really  raising  money  at  all. 
Probably,  this  was  the  best  that  could  be  done,  but  it  was 
a  source  of  weakness  and  came  near  wrecking  the  Amer 
ican  cause.  They  also  adopted  a  code  for  the  government 
of  the  army  ;  authorized  the  invasion  of  Canada,  and  sent 
agents  to  the  Indians  to  prevent  their  forming  alliances 
with  Great  Britain. 

These  things  accomplished,  Congress  turned  again  to 
the  business  for  which  they  had  been  chosen,  the  defence 
of  the  American  position  ;  and  on  July  6th  published  a 
declaration  of  the  reasons  for  taking  up  arms.  This  was 
done  thoroughly  well.  They  set  forth  the  acts  of  hostility 
on  the  part  of  Great  Britain,  and  showed  that  the  Ministry 


140  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

were  trying  to  subdue  them  by  force,  which  the  Ministry 
certainly  would  not  have  denied.  They  declared  that  they 
preferred  armed  resistance  to  the  unconditional  submission 
which  England  demanded,  and  at  the  same  time  they  pro 
tested  that  they  were  not  fighting  for  "  the  desperate  meas 
ure  of  independence,"  but  only  to  defend  themselves  from 
unprovoked  attack.  Their  statement  was  plain  and  truth 
ful,  and  they  honestly  represented  the  public  reluctance  to 
seek  independence.  It  would  have  been  well  if  England 
had  heeded  it,  but,  unluckily,  England  was  committed  to 
another  policy  and  this  was  all  too  late.  The  declaration, 
as  it  stood,  under  existing  conditions  meant  war,  and  they 
should  have  followed  it  up  by  straining  every  nerve  in 
earnest  preparation.  Some  of  the  members,  like  John 
Adams  and  Franklin,  knew  what  it  all  meant  well  enough, 
but  Congress  would  not  so  interpret  it.  Instead  of  ac 
tively  going  to  work  to  make  an  effective  government  and 
take  all  steps  needful  for  the  energetic  prosecution  of  the 
war,  they  adopted  a  second  petition  to  the  King,  which 
was  drafted  by  Dickinson.  The  contradictions  in  which 
they  were  involved  came  out  sharply  even  in  this  last  effort 
of  loyalty.  They  proposed  a  truce  and  a  negotiation  to 
the  King,  who  had  declined  to  recognize  Congress  at  all, 
and  the  King  was  quite  right  in  his  refusal  if  he  intended 
to  fight,  as  he  undoubtedly  did.  Congress  was  union,  and 
union  was  practical  independence.  How  then  could  the 
King  treat  with  a  body  which  by  its  very  existence  meant 
a  new  nation  ?  Yet  this  was  precisely  what  Congress 
asked  as  the  nearest  way  to  peace  and  reconciliation. 
There  could  be  no  result  to  such  a  measure  as  this,  unless 
England  was  ready  to  yield,  and  if  she  was,  the  difficulty 
would  settle  itself  quickly  and  without  argument.  They 


INDEPENDENCE  141 

also  adopted  another  address  to  the  English  people,  a 
strong  and  even  pathetic  appeal  to  race  feeling  and  com 
munity  of  thought  and  speech,  and,  at  the  same  time,  they 
sent  thanks  to  the  Mayor  and  Aldermen  of  London  for 
their  sympathy.  They  intrusted  the  petition  to  the  King 
to  Richard  Penn,  and  felt  strong  hopes  of  success,  because 
of  their  concessions  in  regard  to  trade.  They  would  not 
confess  even  to  themselves  that  the  differences  with  the 
mother-country  had  now  reached  the  point  where  the  ques 
tion  was  the  very  simple  one,  whether  the  people  of  the 
colonies  were  to  govern  America  or  the  English  King 
and  Parliament.  There  was  no  lack  of  men  who  under 
stood  all  this  perfectly,  but  they  were  not  yet  in  control, 
perhaps  were  not  ready  to  be,  and  Congress  would  not 
admit  that  the  case  was  hopeless  and  that  the  stage  had 
been  reached  where  compromises  were  no  longer  possible. 
Even  while  they  hoped  and  petitioned  and  reasoned,  the 
relentless  facts  were  upon  them.  Armies  could  not  wait 
while  eloquent  pleadings  and  able  arguments  were  passing 
slowly  across  the  Atlantic.  Washington  wrote  from  Cam 
bridge  that  the  army  was  undisciplined  and  short  in  num 
bers  ;  that  there  were  too  many  officers,  and  not  enough 
men  ;  that  he  needed  at  once  tents,  clothing,  hospitals, 
engineers,  arms  of  every  kind,  and  above  all  gunpowder, 
and  that  he  had  no  money.  From  Schuyler  at  Ticon- 
deroga  came  the  same  demands  and  the  same  report.  Con 
gress  had  to  hear  their  letters,  and  could  not  avoid  know 
ing  the  facts.  How  were  they  to  satisfy  these  wants,  how 
deal  with  these  harsh  facts  and  yet  not  interfere  with  peti 
tions  to  the  King  ?  A  question  not  easy  to  answer,  for  it  is 
never  easy  to  reconcile  two  conflicting  policies,  and  still 
worse  to  try  to  carry  both  into  effect.  The  result  was  that 


142  THE  STORY   OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

the  army  suffered  because  that  was  the  only  direction  in 
which  anything  substantial  could  really  be  done,  all  peti 
tioning  having  become  by  this  time  quite  futile.  It  is  true 
that  Washington  was  authorized  to  have  an  army  of  twenty- 
two  thousand  men,  but  no  means  were  given  him  to  get 
them.  Five  thousand  men  were  also  authorized  for  Can 
ada,  and  nothing  was  done  toward  getting  them  either.  To 
make  matters  still  worse,  no  enlistments  were  to  be  made 
for  a  time  longer  than  that  in  which  they  could  hear  from 
the  King,  who  was  diligently  gathering  together  fleets  and 
armies  to  send  against  them.  They  organized  a  post-office, 
which  was  desirable,  but  not  an  engine  of  war  ;  they  also 
organized  a  hospital  service,  which  was  very  desirable,  but 
not  aggressive  ;  they  issued  more  bills  of  credit,  and  de 
cided  that  they  should  be  apportioned  according  to  popu 
lation,  and  they  failed  to  open  their  ports  to  other  nations, 
their  only  resource  for  munitions  of  war,  and  renewed  their 
non-exportation  agreements.  Franklin,  looking  out  on 
this  welter  of  contradictions  and  confusions,  and  seeing 
very  plainly  the  facts  in  the  case,  offered  a  plan  for  a  con 
federate  government  so  as  to  provide  machinery  for  what 
they  were  trying  to  do.  It  was  a  wise  and  statesmanlike 
measure  in  principle,  and  was  laid  aside.  John  Adams 
wrote  indignant  letters  declaring  that  they  should  be  at 
work  founding  and  defending  an  empire  instead  of  argu 
ing  and  waiting.  These  letters  were  intercepted  and  pub 
lished  by  the  party  of  the  Crown  in  order  to  break  down 
Adams  and  the  radicals,  which  shows,  in  a  flash  of  light, 
what  public  opinion  was  believed  to  be  at  that  moment 
in  the  great  middle  colonies.  Whether  the  loyalists 
gauged  public  opinion  correctly  or  not,  Congress  agreed 
with  them  and  allowed  everything  to  drift.  Yet,  at  the 


INDEPENDENCE  143 

same  time,  they  decisively  rejected  Lord  North's  pro 
posals.  They  would  not  accept  the  British  advances  or 
even  consider  them,  the  King  would  not  deal  with  them, 
and  yet  with  all  this  staring  them  in  the  face  they  still 
declined  to  sustain  the  army  or  frame  a  government. 
They  could  not  bear  the  idea  of  separation,  the  breaking 
of  the  bonds  of  race  and  kindred,  the  overthrow  of  all 
habits  and  customs  to  which  human  nature  clings  so  tena 
ciously.  It  was  all  very  natural,  but  it  was  very  bad  for 
the  American  Revolution,  and  caused  many  disasters  by 
keeping  us  unprepared  as  long  as  possible,  and  also  by 
fostering  the  belief  in  the  minds  of  the  people  that  all 
would  yet  come  right  and  go  on  as  before.  Men  are  slow 
to  understand  the  presence  of  a  new  force  and  the  coming 
of  a  great  change.  They  are  still  slower  to  admit  it  when 
they  do  know  it,  but  meantime  the  movement  goes  on  and 
in  due  time  takes  its  revenge  for  a  failure  to  recognize  it. 

Thus  Congress,  faithfully  reflecting  the  wishes  and  the 
doubts  of  a  majority  of  the  people,  failed  to  do  anything, 
where  alone  they  could  have  been  effective,  tried  nobly 
and  manfully  to  do  something  where  nothing  could  be 
done,  hesitated  on  the  brink  of  the  inevitable,  and  finally 
adjourned  on  August  ist  leaving  the  country  for  the  mo 
ment  without  any  central  government  whatever.  At  the 
same  time  they  left  Washington  with  his  army  and  the 
Canadian  expedition  and  the  siege  of  Boston  on  his  hands, 
and  nothing  to  turn  to  for  support  but  the  governments 
of  the  different  colonies.  Congress  is  not  to  be  blamed 
too  severely  for  all  this,  for  they  merely  reflected  the  hesi 
tation  and  haltings  of  a  time  when  all  was  doubt.  But 
their  failure  to  act  and  their  adjournment  without  leaving 
any  executive  officer  to  represent  them,  bring  out,  in  strong 


144          THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

relief,  the  difficulties  which  beset  Washington,  who  with 
his  army  alone  represented  the  American  Revolution  and 
the  popular  force,  as  he  was  destined  to  do  on  many  other 
occasions  and  in  much  darker  hours.  It  is  well  also  to 
note  that  despite  the  inaction  and  departure  of  Congress 
the  work  of  war  was  done  in  some  fashion,  the  siege 
of  Boston  pushed,  and  the  expedition  to  Canada  set  in 
motion. 

The  weeks  of  adjournment  went  by.  Congress  should 
have  reassembled  on  September  5th,  but  a  week  elapsed 
before  enough  members  were  present  to  do  business,  an 
instance  of  unpunctuality  which  was  ominous  in  a  body 
that  had  undertaken  executive  functions.  Helplessness 
was  still  supreme.  John  Adams,  of  the  intercepted  letters, 
was  cut  in  the  street  by  the  excellent  and  patriotic  Dickin 
son,  to  whom  he  had  referred  in  those  letters  as  a  "  pid 
dling  genius."  All  the  New  England  members,  indeed, 
were  regarded  with  suspicion  by  the  great  central  colonies, 
but  were  sustained  by  the  South.  Hence  much  ill-feeling 
and  animosity  became  apparent  between  the  two  parties, 
but  the  party  with  hope  for  peace  was  still  in  the  ascend 
ant,  still  holding  a  majority  which  was  weakening  every 
day  and  yet  shrinking  from  the  inevitable,  after  the  fashion 
of  human  nature  under  such  trying  conditions.  Out  of 
such  a  situation  little  positive  action  could  come,  and  the 
time  was  wasted  in  much  vain  debate.  Would  they  send 
an  expedition  to  Detroit  ?  A  wise  scheme  but,  after  much 
talk,  rejected.  England  was  prohibiting  our  fisheries  and 
restricting  the  trade  of  Southern  colonies.  It  was  obvious 
that  we  should  open  our  ports  to  the  world.  Nothing  was 
done.  Then  came  long  discussions  about  expeditions,  the 
boundary  line  of  Pennsylvania,  the  rights  of  Connecticut 


INDEPENDENCE  145 

in  Wyoming,  and  the  enlistment  of  negroes,  this  last  de 
cided  in  the  affirmative  despite  Southern  remonstrance. 
Meantime  war  was  in  progress  as  well  as  debate,  and  war 
could  not  be  postponed.  Washington,  observing  that  Eng 
land  was  replying  to  Bunker  Hill  with  increased  arma 
ments  and  paying  no  heed  to  petitions,  had  no  doubt  as 
to  the  realities  of  the  situation.  Independence  was  the 
only  thing  possible  now  that  fighting  had  begun,  and  to 
fail  to  say  what  was  meant  was  simply  ruinous.  Moreover, 
his  army  was  about  to  disappear,  for  terms  of  enlistment  had 
expired,  and  he  had  no  means  to  get  a  new  one.  Without 
an  army  a  siege  of  Boston  was  plainly  impossible,  and  so 
there  came  a  letter  to  Congress  from  their  commander-m- 
chief  which  roused  the  members  from  their  debates.  Here 
was  a  voice  to  which  they  must  listen,  and  a  condition  of 
affairs  which  they  must  face.  They  accordingly  appointed 
a  committee,  consisting  of  Franklin,  Lynch,  and  Harrison, 
to  visit  the  camp.  Three  men,  when  one  of  them  was 
Franklin,  made  a  better  executive  than  the  country  had 
yet  had,  and  the  result  was  soon  apparent.  On  October 
1 5th  the  committee  reached  the  camp,  where  Franklin, 
who  understood  the  facts,  had  no  difficulty  in  arranging 
matters  with  Washington.  A  scheme  was  agreed  upon 
for  a  new  army  of  twenty-three  thousand  men,  and  power 
given  the  general  to  enlist  them.  The  Congress  gave  its 
assent,  the  four  New  England  colonies  were  to  furnish  the 
men  and  the  money,  and  Washington  was  to  get  the  work 
done.  Meantime  the  Congress  itself  was  going  on  with  its 
debates  and  hesitations.  One  day  Rhode  Island  demanded 
a  navy,  and  after  much  struggle  vessels  were  authorized. 
Then  came  the  cold  fit  again.  Nothing  must  be  done  to 
irritate  England  or  spoil  the  chances  of  the  petition,  so 

VOL.  I. — 10 


146  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

no  prize  courts  were  established,  no  ports  were  opened, 
and  New  Hampshire,  when  everything  depended  upon 
New  England,  was  kept  waiting  a  month  for  authority  to 
establish  an  independent  government. 

Yet  under  all  the  doubtings  and  delays  the  forces 
were  moving  forward.  The  pressure  for  decisive  action 
increased  steadily,  the  logic  of  independence  became  con 
stantly  more  relentless,  more  unavoidable.  Washington 
and  the  army  were  clearly  for  independence,  and  they  were 
now  a  power  no  longer  to  be  disregarded.  One  colony 
after  another  was  setting  up  a  government  for  itself,  and 
as  each  one  became  independent,  the  absurdity  of  the  cen 
tral  government  holding  back  while  each  of  the  several 
parts  moved  forward  was  strongly  manifested.  New 
England  had  broken  away  entirely.  The  Southern  col 
onies,  led  by  Virginia  and  mismanaged  by  their  governors, 
were  going  rapidly  in  the  same  direction.  The  resistance 
still  came  from  the  middle  colonies,  naturally  more  con 
servative,  restrained,  except  in  New  York,  by  loyal  gov 
ernors,  who,  like  William  Franklin  in  New  Jersey,  were  at 
once  politic  and  judicious.  Pennsylvania,  clinging  to  her 
mild  proprietary  government  of  Quakers  and  Germans, 
held  back  more  resolutely  than  any  other  and  sustained 
John  Dickinson  in  his  policy  of  inaction. 

But  the  party  of  delay  constantly  grew  weaker.  The 
news  from  England  was  an  argument  for  independence 
that  could  not  well  be  met.  Richard  Penn,  the  bearer  of 
the  olive-branch,  could  not  even  present  his  petition,  for 
the  King  would  not  see  him.  Chatham  and  Camden 
might  oppose,  other  Englishmen,  studying  the  accounts 
of  Bunker  Hill,  might  doubt,  but  the  King  had  no  mis 
givings.  George  meant  to  be  a  king,  and  the  idea  of 


INDEPENDENCE  149 

resistance  to  his  wishes  was  intolerable  to  him.  It  was 
something  to  be  crushed,  not  reasoned  with.  So  he  issued 
a  proclamation  declaring  the  Americans  rebels  and  trait 
ors,  who  were  to  be  put  down  and  punished.  To  carry 
out  his  plans,  ships,  expeditions,  and  armaments  were 
prepared,  and  the  King,  in  order  to  get  men,  sent  his 
agents  over  Europe  to  buy  soldiers  from  the  wretched 
German  princelings  who  lived  by  selling  their  subjects, 
or  from  anyone  else  who  was  ready  to  traffic  in  flesh  and 
blood.  It  was  not  a  pretty  transaction  nor  over-creditable 
to  a  great  fighting  people  like  the  English,  but  it  unques 
tionably  meant  business.  It  was  not  easy  to  go  on  arguing 
for  reconciliation  when  the  King  shut  the  door  on  the 
petitioners  and  denounced  them  as  traitors,  while  he  busied 
himself  in  hiring  mercenaries  to  put  them  down  by  force. 
Under  these  conditions  the  friends  of  Independence  urged 
their  cause  more  boldly,  and  the  majority  turned  to  their 
side,  but  now  they  waited  until  they  could  obtain  una 
nimity,  which  was  in  truth  something  worth  getting.  The 
change  in  the  opinion  of  Congress  was  shown  plainly  by 
the  change  in  their  measures.  They  applauded  the  vic 
tories  of  Montgomery,  they  took  steps  to  import  arms  and 
gunpowder,  and  to  export  provisions  to  pay  for  them  ; 
they  adopted  a  code  for  the  navy,  approved  Washington's 
capture  of  vessels,  and  issued  three  million  dollars  in  bills 
of  credit.  Most  important  of  all,  they  appointed  a  com 
mittee  on  Foreign  Relations,  the  first  step  toward  getting 
alliances  and  aid  from  other  nations.  These  were  genuine 
war  measures,  and  it  was  a  great  advance  for  Congress  to 
have  reached  the  point  of  recognizing  that  war  measures 
were  proper  in  order  to  cany  on  a  war.  They  were  so 
filled,  indeed,  with  new-born  zeal  that,  after  having  held 


ISO 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 


Washington  back  and  crippled  him  by  delays  and  by  lack  of 
support,  they  proceeded  to  demand  the  impossible  and  urge 
by  solemn  resolution  that  Boston  be  taken  at  once,  even 
if  the  town  were  destroyed.  This  was  a  good  deal  better 
than  being  left  without  any  government  at  all,  but  we  can 
imagine  how  trying  it  must  have  been  to  the  silent  soldier 
who  had  been  laboring  for  months  to  take  Boston,  and 

w^::^. ~""T 


INDEPENDENCE  HALL,    PHILADELPHIA,    CHESTNUT  STREET  FRONT. 

who  now  answered  Congress  in  a  conclusive  and  severe 
manner  which  did  them  much  good. 

Far  stronger  in  its  effect  on  Congress  than  the  action 
of  the  King,  or  even  the  demands  of  the  army,  was  the 
change  in  public  sentiment,  which  was  the  result  of  many 
causes.  From  the  time  of  the  Stamp  Act  to  the  day  of 
Lexington  the  American  party  in  the  colonies  had  steadily 


INDEPENDENCE  151 

declared,  with  great  fervor  and  entire  honesty,  that  they 
had  no  thought  of  independence,  which  meant  separation 
from  the  empire.  They  protested  even  with  anger  that 
the  charge  that  they  aimed  at  any  such  result  was  the 
invention  of  their  enemies  and  made  to  injure  their 
cause.  When  the  first  Congress  assembled  this  was  the 
universal  feeling,  and  Washington  was  but  one  of  many 
who  asserted  it  strongly.  Here  and  there  was  a  man 
like  Samuel  Adams,  radical  by  nature,  and  very  keen  of 
perception,  who  saw  the  set  of  the  tide  ;  but  even  these 
men  said  nothing  and  agreed  to  the  views  held  by  the 
vast  majority.  The  change  started  at  Lexington.  When 
fighting  had  once  begun,  no  other  outcome  but  separa 
tion  or  complete  subjection  was  possible.  To  carry  their 
point  by  defeating  the  troops  of  Great  Britain  and  yet 
remain  an  integral  part  of  the  empire  was  out  of  the 
question.  At  the  distance  of  more  than  a  century  we 
see  this  very  plainly,  but  it  was  not  so  easily  understood 
at  the  time.  Washington  grasped  it  at  once,  and  when 
he  took  command  of  the  army  he  knew  that  the  only  issue 
must  be  a  complete  victory  for  one  side  or  the  other,  but 
Congress,  still  working  along  the  old  lines  of  reconciliation 
and  peace,  could  not  see  it  as  he  did,  and  hence  their  hesi 
tations.  They  still  thought  that  they  could  defeat  the 
King's  armies  and  remain  subjects  of  the  King.  Every 
day  that  passed,  however,  made  the  impossibility  of  this 
attitude  more  apparent.  Every  ship  that  came  from  Eng 
land  brought  news  which  stamped  this  idea  of  peace  and 
union  as  false,  and  each  colony  that  set  up  a  government 
for  itself  gave  the  lie  to  such  a  proposition. 

Outside    of   Congress   there   was    constant   discussion 
going  on  by  which  public  opinion  was  formed.     At  the 


152  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

outset  the  loyalists  had  many  able  writers,  chiefly  clergy 
men  of  the  Anglican  Church,  who  opposed  the  arguments 
so  vigorously  urged  in  support  of  the  American  claims. 
The  writers  on  the  American  side,  however,  not  only  pos 
sessed  abundant  ability  but  events  were  with  them.  Dick 
inson,  in  the  "  Farmer's  Letters,"  before  he  became  con 
servative  ;  Alexander  Hamilton,  in  his  replies  to  Samuel 
Seabury,  an  Episcopal  clergyman  and  author  of  the  able 
letters  of  the  Westchester  Farmer ;  John  Adams,  and 
many  lesser  men  had  done  much  in  shaping  public  senti 
ment.  The  satirists  and  the  versemen  were  generally  on 
the  American  side,  and  they  reached  the  people  through 
their  humor,  wit,  and  fancy.  Some  of  them,  like  Hop- 
kinson,  Freneau,  and  Trumbull,  were  clever  men,  who 
often  wrote  brilliantly  and  always  well,  and  their  excellent 
verses,  full  of  pith  and  point,  went  everywhere  and  con 
verted  many  a  reader  who  had  been  deaf  to  the  learned 
constitutional  and  political  arguments  which  poured  from 
the  press.  Newspapers  were  not  as  yet  a  power.  It 
was  through  pamphlets  that  the  printed  debate  before  the 
people  was  conducted,  and  it  was  well  and  amply  per 
formed  on  both  sides. 

The  same  change  which  is  apparent  in  Congress  is 
apparent  also  in  the  literature  *  of  this  crucial  time.  As 
events  hurried  on,  supplying  arguments  for  the  American 
side  and  forcing  the  American  party  from  mere  legal  op 
position  to  war,  separation,  and  independence,  the  tone  of 


*  In  all  I  have  to  say  about  the  literature  of  the  time  I  desire  to  express  my  obliga 
tion  in  the  fullest  measure  to  Professor  Tyler's  admirable  History  of  the  Literature  of 
the  Revolution.  This  is  particularly  the  case  in  regard  to  the  chapter  on  the  Declara 
tion  of  Independence  from  the  literary  point  of  view,  which  is  not  only  admirable  but 
conclusive. 


INDEPENDENCE  153 

the  loyalist  writers  gets  lower,  and  many  of  them  left  or 
were  forced  to  leave  the  country.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  American  writers  grew  constantly  more  vigorous  and 
more  triumphant,  and  demanded  stronger  measures.  Thus 
public  opinion,  rapidly  changing  in  tone  in  the  winter  of 
1775-76,  needed  but  the  right  man  speaking  the  right  word 
to  send  it  irresistibly  along  the  new  path.  It  was  just  at 
this  moment  that  John  Trumbull  published  his  satire  of 
McFingal,  and  the  sharp  hits  and  pungent  humor  of  the 
poem  caught  the  public  ear  and  helped  to  spur  on  the  lag 
gards  in  the  American  cause.  But  a  mightier  voice  was 
needed  than  this,  and  it,  too,  came  at  the  beginning  of  this 
new  and  fateful  year  of  1776.  It  gave  utterance  to  the 
popular  feeling,  it  put  into  words  what  the  average  man 
was  thinking  and  could  not  express  for  himself,  and  it  did 
this  with  a  force  and  energy  which  arrested  attention  in 
America,  and  travelling  across  seas,  made  men  over  there 
listen  too.  This  voice  crying  aloud  to  such  purpose  was 
not  that  of  an  American  but  an  Englishman.  The  writer 
was  Thomas  Paine,  staymaker,  privateersman,  exciseman, 
teacher,  adventurer,  and  his  pamphlet  was  called  "  Com 
mon  Sense."  Paine,  after  a  checkered  career  both  in  do 
mestic  and  official  life,  had  come  over  to  America  with  no 
capital  but  a  letter  of  introduction  from  Franklin.  He  got 
a  start  in  writing  for  the  newspapers  and  threw  himself 
into  the  life  about  him.  He  came  a  friend  to  the  English 
connection.  Then  looking  about  him  with  eyes  undimmed 
and  with  mind  unhampered  by  colonial  habits,  he  reached 
the  conclusion  in  the  course  of  a  year  that  independence 
was  not  merely  right  but  the  only  thing  possible.  So  with 
but  little  literary  experience  he  sat  him  down  and  wrote 
his  pamphlet.  He  first  argued  about  kingship  and  natural 


154          THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

rights,  and  then  in  favor  of  independence.  Critics  have 
said  of  that  first  part  that  it  was  crude,  unreasoned,  and 
full  of  blunders,  for  Paine  was  not  learned.  Yet  in  that 
same  first  part  he  enunciated  the  great  principle  which 
lay  at  the  bottom  of  the  whole  business,  which  James  Otis 
had  put  forward  years  before,  that  in  the  nature  of  things 
there  was  no  reason  for  kings,  and  every  reason  why  people 
should  rule  themselves.  And  this  was  just  what  this 
quarrel  had  come  to,  so  that  it  needed  no  learning  but 
only  courage  and  common  sense  to  set  it  forth.  As  for 
the  second  part,  which  concerned  the  practical  question 
always  of  most  interest  to  men,  Paine  knew  his  subject 
thoroughly  and  he  argued  the  cause  of  independence  in 
a  bold,  convincing,  indeed  unanswerable,  fashion.  He 
put  forth  his  argument  in  a  strong,  effective  style,  roughly, 
plainly,  so  that  all  stopped  to  listen  and  all  understood. 
His  pamphlet  went  far  and  wide  with  magical  rapidity. 
It  appeared  in  every  form,  and  was  reprinted  and  sold  in 
every  colony  and  town  of  the  Atlantic  seaboard.  Pres 
ently  it  crossed  the  ocean,  was  translated  into  French,  and 
touched  with  unshrinking  hand  certain  chords  in  the  Old 
World  long  silent  but  now  beginning  to  quiver  into  life. 
In  the  colonies  alone  it  is  said  that  one  hundred  and 
twenty  thousand  copies  were  sold  in  three  months.  This 
means  that  almost  every  American  able  to  read,  had  read 
"  Common  Sense."  Its  effect  was  prodigious,  yet  with  all 
its  merits  it  is  a  mistake  to  glorify  it  as  having  convinced 
the  people  that  they  must  have  independence.  The  con 
victions  were  there  already,  made  slowly  by  events,  by 
the  long  discussion,  by  the  English  policy,  by  the  fighting 
around  Boston.  "  Common  Sense  "  may  have  converted 
many  doubters,  but  it  did  something  really  far  more  im- 


INDEPENDENCE 


155 


portant ;  it  gave  utterance  to  the  dumb  thoughts  of  the 
people  ;  it  set  forth  to  the  world,  with  nervous  energy, 
convictions  already  formed  ;  it  supplied  every  man  with 
the  words  and  the  arguments  to  explain  and  defend  the 
faith  that  was  in  him.  Many  Americans  were  thinking 
what  "  Common  Sense  "  said  with  so  much  power.  So 
the  pamphlet  marked  an  epoch,  was  a  very  memorable 
production,  and  from 
the  time  of  its  publica 
tion  the  tide  slowly  set 
ting  in  the  direction  of 
independence  began  to 
race,  with  devouring 
swiftness,  to  the  high- 
water  mark. 

As  the  winter  wore 
away  and  spring  began, 
Congress,  still  lingering 
behind  the  people,  con 
tinued  to  adopt  war 
like  measures  but  did 
nothing  for  independ 
ence.  The  central  col 
onies  still  hung  back, 

although  the  movement  for  independent  provincial  gov 
ernments  went  on  unchecked,  and  the  action  in  that 
direction  of  each  separate  colony  brought  nearer  like 
action  on  the  part  of  the  continent.  The  rising  of  the 
Highlanders  in  the  valley  of  the  Mohawk  under  Sir 
John  Johnson,  easily  crushed  by  Schuyler  ;  a  similar  ris 
ing  of  the  Highlanders  in  North  Carolina,  defeated  in 
a  sharp  fight  by  the  Minute  Men  under  Caswell  ;  the 


THOMAS  PAINE. 
From  painting  by  C.  W.  Peale,  1783. 


I5<5          THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

evacuation  of  Boston,  all  drove  events  forward  and  forced 
the  hands  of  Congress.  The  measures  of  Congress  stiff 
ened.  More  men  and  more  money  were  voted,  the 
country  was  divided  into  military  departments,  and  Silas 
Deane  was  appointed  an  agent  to  France.  Still  they 
shrank  from  facing  what  they  knew  must  be  faced,  but 
the  friends  of  independence  could  no  longer  be  kept  silent. 
Even  if  Pennsylvania,  not  without  great  effort,  was  kept 
true  to  Dickinson  and  peace,  the  other  colonies  were  com 
ing  into  line,  and  the  American  party,  virtually  led  by 
John  Adams,  began  to  argue  for  independence  on  almost 
every  debate  which  sprang  up.  In  some  way  the  real  issue 
appeared  on  every  occasion,  and  the  efforts  to  avoid  it,  or 
to  pretend  that  it  was  not  there,  grew  fainter  and  fainter. 
On  May  roth  John  Adams  carried  his  resolution  to  in 
struct  all  the  colonies  that  had  not  yet  done  so  to  set  up 
independent  governments,  a  heavy  blow  to  the  Pennsyl 
vania  peace  party  and  a  long  step  toward  national  inde 
pendence.  In  the  same  month  the  Virginia  convention, 
which  established  the  State  government,  instructed  the 
delegates  in  Congress  to  urge  and  support  independence. 
With  this  decision  from  the  oldest  and  most  powerful 
colony,  backed  as  it  was  by  Massachusetts  and  New  Eng 
land,  the  final  conflict  in  Congress  could  no  longer  be  post 
poned.  The  American  party  was  in  the  ascendant,  and 
with  the  instructions  from  Virginia  would  wait  no  longer. 
The  other  colonies,  even  those  in  the  centre,  were  now 
all  in  line,  or  fast  coming  there,  and  Congress  could  not 
hesitate  further.  On  June  8th  Richard  Henry  Lee,  in 
the  name  of  Virginia,  moved  that  the  colonies  were,  and 
of  right  ought  to  be,  free  and  independent,  and  that  their 
allegiance  to  the  British  Crown  ought  to  be  dissolved 


INDEPENDENCE 


157 


For  two  days  the  question  was  earnestly  debated,  and 
then  it  was  decided,  although  the  resolution  clearly  had  a 
majority,  to  postpone  the  debate  for  three  weeks,  during 
which  time  plans  were  to  be  prepared  for  a  confederation 
and  for  treaties  with  foreign  powers,  and  the  members 
were  to  have  opportunity  to  consult  their  constituents,  so 
that  the  great  act,  if  possible,  might  be  adopted  with 
unanimity.  To  avoid  any  delay  a  committee  was  appointed 
to  draft  a  declaration  to  accompany  the  resolution  for 
independence.  This  committee 
consisted  of  Jefferson,  John 
Adams,  Franklin,  Roger  Sher 
man,  and  Robert  Livingston, 
and  to  Jefferson  was  intrusted 
the  work  of  preparing  the  draft. 

The  three  weeks  slipped  rap 
idly  by.  Congress  heard  from 
its  constituents,  and  there  was  no 
mistaking  what  they  said.  New 
England  and  the  South  were  al 
ready  for  independence.  New 
York,  menaced  on  the  north  by 
savages  and  on  the  south  by  the  speedy  coming  of  a 
powerful  English  fleet,  wheeled  into  line.  Maryland  and 
Delaware  joined  readily  and  easily.  New  Jersey  called 
a  State  convention  to  establish  a  State  government, 
arrested  their  royal  Governor,  William  Franklin,  and  elect 
ed  five  stanch  friends  of  independence  to  Congress.  Even 
Pennsylvania,  after  long  debates  and  many  misgivings, 
agreed  to  sustain  Congress  if  it  voted  for  independence. 

All  was  ready  for  action  when  Congress  met  on  July 
i  st.     There  were  fifty  members  present,   and   they   were 


ROGER  SHERMAN. 
From  the  painting  by  Ralph  Earle,  1787. 


158  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

the  best  and  ablest  men  America  could  produce.  It  was 
the  zenith  of  the  Continental  Congress.  However  through 
inevitable  causes  it  afterward  weakened,  however  ill  suited 
it  was  by  its  constitution  for  executive  functions,  it  now 
faced  the  task  for  which  it  was  perfectly  fitted.  No  wiser 
or  more  patriotic  body  of  men  ever  met  a  revolutionary 
crisis  or  took  the  fate  of  a  nation  in  their  hands  with  a 
deeper  and  finer  sense  of  the  heavy  responsibility  rest 
ing  upon  them.  All  that  they  did  was  grave  and  serious. 
They  faced  the  great  duty  before  them  calmly,  but  with  a 
profound  sense  of  all  that  it  meant. 

A  letter  from  Washington  was  read  showing  how 
small  his  army  was  and  how  badly  armed.  A  despatch 
from  Lee  announced  the  arrival  of  the  British  fleet  and 
army  at  Charleston.  Unmoved  and  firm,  Congress  passed 
to  the  order  of  the  day  and  went  into  committee  of  the 
whole  to  consider  the  resolution  ''respecting  independ 
ence."  The  mover,  Richard  Henry  Lee,  was  absent  at 
the  Virginia  convention.  There  was  a  pause,  and  then 
John  Adams  arose  and  made  the  great  speech  which 
caused  Jefferson  to  call  him  the  Colossus  of  Debate,  and 
which,  unreported  as  it  was,  lives  in  tradition  as  one  of 
the  memorable  feats  of  oratory.  With  all  the  pent-up  feel 
ing  gathered  through  the  years  when  he  was  looked  on 
with  suspicion  and  distrust,  with  all  the  fervor  of  an  earn 
est  nature  and  of  burning  conviction,  he  poured  forth  the 
arguments  which  he  had  thought  of  for  months,  and  which 
sprang  from  his  lips  full-armed.  There  was  no  need  of 
further  speech  on  that  side  after  this  great  outburst,  but 
Dickinson  defended  the  position  he  had  long  held,  and 
others  entered  into  the  discussion.  When  the  vote  was 
taken,  New  York,  favoring  independence,  but  still  with- 


INDEPENDENCE 


159 


out  absolute  instructions,  refused  to  vote.  South  Caro 
lina,  instructed  but  still  hesitating,  voted  with  Pennsyl 
vania  in  the  negative.  The  other  nine  colonies  voted  for 
independence.  Then  the  committee  rose,  and  on  the 
request  of  South  Carolina  the  final  vote  was  postponed 
until  the  next  day. 

When  they  met  on  July  2d  they  listened  to  another 
letter  from  Washington,  telling  them  that  Howe,  with 
some  fifty  ships  carrying  troops,  had  appeared  off  Sandy 
Hook.  There  was  no  quiver  in  the  letter ;  he  hoped  for 
reinforcements,  but  he  was  ready  to  face  the  great  odds, 
weak  as  he  was.  No  news  came  from  Charleston,  which 
might  have  been  falling  before  the  British  fire  even  as 
they  talked.  The  enemy  was  at  the  gates,  but  there  was 
no  wavering  and  their  cour 
age  rose  under  the  dangers 
upon  them.  With  inde 
pendence  declared,  they 
would  have  a  cause  to  fight 
for.  Without  it  they  were 
beating  the  air.  So  they 
went  to  a  vote.  New  York 
was,  as  before,  for  inde 
pendence,  but  still  unable 
to  vote.  South  Carolina, 
knowing  only  that  her  cap 
ital  was  in  danger,  and  still 
in  ignorance  that  the  bat 
tle  had  been  won,  voted 

for  independence.  Delaware  was  no  longer  divided,  and 
Pennsylvania,  by  the  intentional  absence  of  Dickinson 
and  Morris,  was  free  to  vote  with  the  rest.  So  twelve 


ROBERT  .MORRIS. 
From  a  painting  by  Ed-ward  Savage,  2-jgo. 


i6o          THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

colonies  voted  unanimously  for  independence,  thirteen 
agreed  to  it,  and  the  resolution  passed.  Henceforth  there 
were  to  be  no  colonies  from  Maine  to  Florida  ;  a  nation 
was  born  and  stood  up  to  prove  its  right  to  live.  The 
great  step  had  been  taken.  It  now  remained  to  set  forth 
to  the  world  the  reasons  for  what  had  been  done  there  in 
Philadelphia  on  July  2,  1776. 

Thomas  Jefferson,  to  whom  this  momentous  work  had 
been  intrusted,  came  a  young  man  to  Congress,  preceded 
by  a  decided  reputation  as  a  man  of  ability  and  a  vigorous 
and  felicitous  writer.  His  engaging  manners  and  obvi 
ously  great  talents  secured  to  him  immediately  the  regard 
and  affection  of  his  fellow-members.  He  was  at  once 
placed  on  a  committee  to  draft  the  declaration  of  the 
reasons  for  taking  up  arms,  and  then  on  one  to  reply  to 
the  propositions  of  Lord  North.  So  well  did  he  do  his 
part,  and  so  much  did  he  impress  his  associates,  that 
when  the  resolution  for  independence  was  referred,  he  was 
chosen  to  stand  at  the  head  of  the  committee  and  to  him 
was  intrusted  the  work  of  drafting  the  Declaration.  No 
happier  choice  could  have  been  made.  It  was  in  its  way 
as  wise  and  fortunate  as  the  selection  of  Washington  to 
lead  the  armies.  This  was  not  because  Jefferson  was  the 
ablest  man  in  the  Congress.  In  intellectual  power  and 
brilliancy  Franklin  surpassed  him  and  John  Adams,  who, 
like  Franklin,  was  on  the  committee,  was  a  stronger 
character,  a  better  lawyer,  and  a  much  more  learned  man. 
But  for  this  particular  work,  so  momentous  to  America, 
Jefferson  was  better  adapted  than  any  other  of  the  able 
men  who  separated  America  from  England.  He  was, 
above  all  things,  the  child  of  his  time.  He  had  the  eager, 
open  mind,  the  robust  optimism,  the  desire  for  change  so 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON, 
from  the  painting  by  Charles  Willscn  Peate,  1792. 


INDEPENDENCE 


163 


characteristic  of  those  memorable  years  with  which  the 
eighteenth  century  closed.  Instead  of  fearing  innovation, 
he  welcomed  it  as  a  good  in  itself,  and  novelty  always 
appealed  to  him,  whether  it  appeared  in  the  form  of  a 
plough  or  a  government.  He  was  in  full  and  utter  sym 
pathy  with  his  time  and  with  the  great  forces  then  begin- 


VI EW  OF  INDEPENDENCE  HALL   FROM  THE  PARK  SIDE. 

ning  to  stir  into  life.  Others  might  act  from  convictions 
on  the  question  of  taxation  ;  others  still  because  they  felt 
that  separation  from  England  was  the  only  way  to  save 
their  liberty  ;  but  to  Jefferson  independence  had  come  to 
mean  the  right  of  the  people  to  rule.  He  had  learned 
rapidly  in  the  stirring  times  through  which  he  had  passed. 
The  old  habits  of  thought  and  customs  of  politics  had 


164 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 


dropped  away  from  him,  and  he  was  filled  with  the  spirit 
of  democracy,  that  new  spirit  which  a  few  years  later 
was  to  convulse  Europe.  Compared  with  the  men  about 
him,  Jefferson  was  an  extremist  and  a  radical,  more  ex 
treme  in  his  theories  than  they  guessed,  or  perhaps  than 


STAIRWAY  IN  INDEPENDENCE  II ALL. 

even  he  himself  conceived.  Compared  with  the  men  of 
the  French  Revolution  he  was  an  ultraconservative,  and 
yet  the  spirit  which  moved  them  all  was  the  same.  He 
believed,  as  they  believed,  that  the  right  to  rule  lay  with 
the  whole  people  and  not  with  one  man  or  with  a  selected 
class.  When  he  sat  down  to  write  the  Declaration  of 
Independence  it  was  the  spirit  of  the  age,  the  faith  in 


INDEPENDENCE 


167 


the  future,  and  in  a  larger  liberty  for  mankind  which  fired 
his  brain  and  guided  his  pen. 

The  result  was  the  Declaration  of  Independence.  The 
draft  was  submitted  to  Franklin  and  Adams,  who  made 
a  few  slight  changes.  The  influence  of  the  South  struck 
out  the  paragraph  against  slavery.  It  was  read  on  July 
3d.  A  debate  ensued  in  which  John  Adams  led  as  in 
that  on  the  resolution,  and  on  July  4th  the  Congress 
agreed  to  the  Declaration  and  authorized  the  President 


ROOM  IN  INDEPENDENCE  HALL   IN   WHICH  THE  DECLARATION   WAS 

SIGNED. 

and  Secretary  to  sign,  attest,  and  publish  it.  The  formal 
signing  by  the  members  did  not  take  place  until  August, 
and  some  signatures  were  given  even  later.  But  the  July 
4th  when  the  Declaration  was  adopted  by  Congress  was 


168  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

the  day  which  the  American  people  have  set  apart  and 
held  sacred  to  the  memory  of  a  great  deed. 

The  Declaration  when  published  was  read  to  the  army 
under  Washington  and  received  by  the  soldiers  with  con 
tent.  It  was  a  satisfaction  to  them  to  have  the  reality 
for  which  they  were  fighting  put  into  words  and  officially 
declared.  It  was  read  also  formally  and  with  some  cere 
mony  in  public  places,  in  all  the  chief  towns  of  the  colo 
nies,  and  was.  received  by  the  people  cordially  and  heartily, 
but  without  excitement.  There  was  no  reason  why  it 
should  have  called  forth  much  feeling,  for  it  merely  em 
bodied  public  opinion  already  made  up,  and  was  expected 
by  the  loyalist  minority.  Yet  despite  its  general  accept 
ance,  which  showed  its  political  strength,  it  was  a  great 
and  memorable  document.  From  that  day  to  this  it  has 
been  listened  to  with  reverence  by  a  people  who  have 
grown  to  be  a  great  nation,  and  equally  from  that  day 
to  this  it  has  been  the  subject  of  severe  criticism.  The 
reverence  is  right,  the  criticism  misplaced  and  founded  on 
misunderstanding. 

The  Declaration  is  divided  into  two  parts  :  First,  the 
statement  of  certain  general  principles  of  the  rights  of  men 
and  peoples,  and,  secondly,  an  attack  on  George  III.  as  a 
tyrant,  setting  forth,  in  a  series  of  propositions,  the  wrongs 
done  by  him  to  the  Americans  which  justified  them  in 
rebellion.  Criticism  has  been  directed  first  against  the 
attack  on  the  King,  then  to  the  originality  of  the  doctrines 
enunciated,  then  against  the  statement  of  the  rights  of 
man,  Jefferson's  "self-evident  truths,"  and  finally  against 
the  style. 

The  last  criticism  is  easily  disposed  of.  Year  after 
year,  for  more  than  a  century,  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 


READING    THE    DECLARATION   OF   INDEPENDENCE    TO    THE    TROOPS   IN  NEW   YORK, 
ASSEMBLED  ON   THE   COMMON,  NOW   CITY  HALL   PARK,   OLD   ST.   PAUL'S   IN   Tiff-:  BACK- 


INDEPENDENCE 


171 


pendence  has  been  solemnly  read  in  every  city,  town,  and 
hamlet  of  the  United  States  to  thousands  of  Americans 
who  have  heard  it  over  and  over  again,  and  who  listen  to 
it  in  reverent  silence  and  rejoice  that  it  is  theirs  to  read. 
If  it  had  been  badly  written,  the  most  robust  patriotism 
would  be  incapable  of  this  habit.  False  rhetoric  or  turgid 
sentences  would  have  been  their  own  death-warrant,  and 
the  pervading  American  sense  of  humor  would  have  seen 
to  its  execution.  The  mere  fact  that  Jefferson's  words 
have  stood  successfully  this  endless  repetition  is  infallible 
proof  that  the  Declaration  has  the  true  and  high  literary 
quality  which  alone  could  have  preserved  through  such 
trials  its  impressiveness  and  its  savor.  To  those  who  will 
study  the  Declaration  carefully  from  the  literary  side,  it  is 
soon  apparent  that  the  English  is  fine,  the  tone  noble  and 
dignified,  and  the  style  strong,  clear,  and  imposing. 


*v, 


FROM  THE  RESOLUTIONS  ADOPTED  BY  CONGRESS,  JULY j,  7776. 
Fac-similt  of  a  part  of  the  original  draft  belonging  to  the  I-vimet  collection  in  the  Lenox  Library. 


i/2  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

Passing  from  the  form  to  the  substance,  critics  as  far 
apart  as  John  Adams  and  Lord  John  Russell  have  con 
demned  the  attack  on  George  III.  and  the  charge  that 
he  was  a  tyrant  as  unjust,  bitter,  and  almost  absurd.  Yet, 
as  the  years  have  gone  by,  it  has  become  very  plain  that 
George  III.  was  really  making  a  final  and  very  serious 
attempt  to  restore  the  royal  authority,  and  was  seeking 
by  shrewder  and  more  insidious  methods  to  regain  what 
Charles  I.  had  lost.  He  was  steadily  following  out  his 
mother's  behest  and  trying  to  be  a  king.  If  the  revolt 
had  not  come  in  America  it  would  have  come  in  England, 
and  England  would  have  defeated  his  plans  and  broken 
his  power  as  his  American  colonies  succeeded  in  doing. 
When  the  best  of  modern  English  historians,  like  Lecky 
and  Green,  admit  this  in  regard  to  George  III.,  we  need 
not  question  that  Jefferson's  instinct  was  a  true  one  when 
he  drew  the  indictment  of  his  sovereign.  But  Jefferson 
was  right  on  broader  grounds  than  this.  He  was  declar 
ing  something  much  more  far-reaching  than  the  right  of 
the  colonies  to  separate  from  England.  He  was  announc 
ing  to  the  world  the  right  of  the  people  to  rule  themselves, 
and  that  no  one  man  was  entitled  to  be  king,  but  that 
every  man  had  a  title  to  kingship  in  virtue  of  his  man 
hood.  The  logical  step  from  this  proposition  was  not  to 
assail  the  people  or  Parliament  of  England,  which  would 
have  been  a  contradiction  of  his  own  argument,  but  the 
man  who  represented  the  old-time  theory  of  kingship  and 
from  whom  as  part  of  a  system  the  evils  he  complained 
of  came.  Jefferson  was  instinctively  right  when  he  struck 
at  the  kingly  power,  for  that  was  the  real  point  of  conflict. 

John  Adams's  criticism  that  the  doctrines  and  princi 
ples  set  forth  were  not  new,  but  had  been  heard  before 


TEARING  DOWN  THE  LEADEN  STATUE  OF  GEORGE  III.,  ON  BOWLING 
GREEN,  NEW  YORK,  TO  CELEBRATE  THE  SIGNING  OF  THE  DECLARATION 
OF  INDEPENDENCE. 

The  leadiL'as  later  moulded  into  bullets  for  the  American  Army. 


INDEPENDENCE  175 

from  James  Otis  down  through  all  the  long  controversy, 
was  simply  inept.  The  doctrines  and  principles,  of  course, 
were  not  new.  That  was  their  strength.  Jefferson  was  not 
a  Frenchman  bursting  suddenly  through  the  tyranny  of  cen 
turies,  to  whom  the  language  of  freedom  and  of  constitu 
tional  liberty  was  an  unknown  tongue.  He  was  one  of 
that  great  race  which  for  five  hundred  years,  from  Magna 
Charta  to  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  from  Runny- 
mede  to  Philadelphia,  had  been  slowly,  painfully,  and  very 
strenuously  building  up  a  fabric  of  personal  liberty  and 
free  government.  In  all  those  long  discussions,  in  all 
those  bitter  struggles,  the  words  and  principles  of  freedom 
and  human  rights  had  been  developed  and  made  familiar. 
This  was  the  language  which  Jefferson  spoke.  Its  glory 
was  that  it  was  not  new,  and  that  the  people  to  whom  he 
spoke  understood  it,  and  all  it  meant,  because  it  was  a  part 
of  their  inheritance,  like  their  mother-tongue.  In  vivid 
phrases  he  set  forth  what  his  people  felt,  knew,  and  wanted 
said.  It  was  part  of  his  genius  that  he  did  so.  He  was 
not  a  man  of  action,  but  a  man  of  imagination,  of  ideas 
and  sympathies.  He  was  a  failure  as  the  war  Governor 
of  Virginia.  The  greatest  and  most  adroit  of  politicians 
and  organizers,  when  dangers  from  abroad  threatened  him 
as  President,  he  was  timid,  hesitating,  and  inadequate. 
But  when  he  was  summoned  to  declare  the  purposes  of 
the  American  people  in  the  face  of  the  world  and  at  the 
bar  of  history,  he  came  to  the  work  which  no  other  man 
could  have  done  so  well.  His  imagination ;  his  keen, 
sure  glance  into  the  future  ;  his  intense  human  sympathies 
came  into  full  play,  and  he  spoke  his  message  so  that  it 
went  home  to  the  hearts  of  his  people  with  an  unerring 
flight. 


176  THE  STORY   OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

The  last  and  best-known  criticism  is  the  bold  epigram 
of  Rufus  Choate,  most  brilliant  of  American  advocates, 
that  the  Declaration  of  Independence  is  made  up  of 
"glittering  generalities."  Again  the  criticism  proceeds 
on  a  misunderstanding.  The  Declaration  of  Independ 
ence  in  its  famous  opening  sentences  is  made  up  of  gen 
eralities,  and  rightly.  That  they  glitter  is  proof  of  the 
writer's  skill  and  judgment.  It  was  not  the  place  for 
careful  argument  and  solid  reasoning.  Jefferson  was  set 
ting  forth  the  reasons  for  a  revolution,  asserting  a  great, 
new  principle,  for  which  men  were  to  be  asked  to  die. 
His  task  was  to  make  it  all  as  simple,  yet  as  splendid  as 
possible.  He  was  to  tell  men  that  they  must  separate 
from  the  great  empire  of  England  and  govern  themselves, 
and  he  must  do  it  in  such  a  way  that  he  who  ran  might 
not  only  read,  but  comprehend.  It  is  the  glory  of  Jeffer 
son  that  he  did  just  this,  and  it  was  no  fault  of  his  that 
the  South  dimmed  one  of  his  glowing  sentences  by  strik 
ing  out  his  condemnation  of  human  slavery. 

In  the  Declaration  of  Independence  Jefferson  uttered, 
in  a  noble  and  enduring  manner,  what  was  stirring  in  the 
hearts  of  his  people.  The  "  Marseillaise "  is  not  great 
poetry,  nor  the  air  to  which  it  was  set  the  greatest  music. 
But  no  one  can  hear  that  song  and  not  feel  his  pulses 
beat  quicker  and  his  blood  course  more  swiftly  through 
his  veins.  It  is  because  the  author  of  it  flung  into  his 
lyric  the  spirit  of  a  great  time,  and  the  dreams  and  aspira 
tions  of  a  great  people.  Hope,  faith,  patriotism,  victory, 
all  cry  out  to  us  in  that  mighty  hymn  of  the  Revolution, 
and  no  one  can  listen  to  it  unmoved.  In  more  sober  fash 
ion,  after  the  manner  of  his  race,  Jefferson  declared  the 
hopes,  beliefs,  and  aspirations  of  the  American  people. 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON   WRITING    THE  DECLARATION'  OF  INDEPENDENCE. 


INDEPENDENCE  179 

But  the  spirit  of  the  time  is  there  in  every  line  and  every 
sentence,  saying  to  all  men  ;  a  people  has  risen  up  in  the 
West,  they  are  weary  of  kings,  they  can  rule  themselves, 
they  will  tear  down  the  old  landmarks,  they  will  let  loose 
a  new  force  upon  the  world,  and  with  the  wilderness  and 
the  savage  at  their  backs  they  will  even  do  battle  for  the 
faith  that  is  in  them. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE    FIGHT    FOR   THE   HUDSON 

WHILE  Congress  was  coming  to  a  decision  upon 
the  great  question  of  Independence,  the  war 
\vas  entering  upon  its  second  stage,  and,  as  it 
proved,  that  in  which  the  American  Revolution  narrowly 
escaped  shipwreck.  When  the  British  undertook  to  co 
erce  the  colonies  by  force,  they  expected  little  resistance. 
They  did  not  measure  at  all  the  task  before  them,  and 
they  were,  therefore,  taken  by  surprise  when  the  people 
rose  up  and  sprang  upon  them.  The  British  governors 
were  expelled  one  after  another  without  any  serious  con 
flict,  and  the  colonies  passed  rapidly  and  easily  to  the  con 
dition  of  independent  States.  The  political  management 
of  the  king  and  his  ministers  was  so  clumsy  that  a  firm 
union  of  all  the  colonies  was  formed  before  their  very 
eyes,  and  this  one  absolutely  essential  condition  of  Amer 
ican  success  was  made  sure  at  an  early  day.  In  a  military 
way  they  had  fared  no  better.  Their  ill-considered  raid 
on  Concord  had  resulted  in  a  disorderly  retreat.  Their 
victory  at  Bunker  Hill  had  been  purchased  at  an  enor 
mous  sacrifice  of  life,  and  had  only  served  to  encourage 
the  Americans.  They  had  been  compelled,  by  the  superior 
generalship  of  Washington,  to  evacuate  Boston,  and  their 

blundering  attack  on  Charleston  had  been  repelled  with 

i  so 


THE   FIGHT   FOR  THE   HUDSON  181 

loss  and  humiliation.  All  the  solid  advantages,  both  mili 
tary  and  political,  during  the  first  year  of  revolution,  had 
been  wholly  on  the  side  of  the  Americans.  This  was  due 
to  the  wilful  ignorance  of  the  English  as  to  their  oppo 
nents,  whom  they  despised,  and  who  for  this  reason  took 
them  unawares  and  defeated  them,  and  to  the  further  fact 
that  a  people  in  arms  was  a  new  force  of  great  power, 
upon  which  neither  they  nor  anyone  else  had  calculated. 

These  conditions  could  not,  in  the  nature  of  things, 
endure.  The  British,  recovering  from  their  surprise,  pro 
ceeded  to  make  arrangements  for  conquering  their  revolted 
provinces  in  a  manner  commensurate  to  the  work  before 
them,  the  seriousness  of  which  they  had  so  entirely  under 
estimated.  George  III.,  who  took  a  deep  personal  inter 
est  in  the  war,  which,  consciously  or  unconsciously,  he  felt 
to  be  the  test  of  his  schemes  and  the  trial  of  his  power, 
set  his  agents  running  over  Europe  to  buy  soldiers  from 
anybody  who  had  men  to  sell. 

His  first  effort  was  in  Russia.  'Gunning,  the  English 
Minister,  interpreted  some  flowery  compliments  and  sound 
ing  protestations  of  friendship  to  mean  that  Catherine 
would  give  England  twenty  thousand  soldiers  to  put 
down  the  rebellious  colonies.  When  the  demand  was 
actually  made,  there  were  more  fine  words,  much  talk 
and  much  evasion,  but  it  finally  appeared  that  Catherine 
had  no  notion  of  giving  any  troops  at  all,  and  the  end 
was  a  refusal.  Hence,  much  disappointment  in  England, 
where  the  Russian  soldiers  were  confidently  expected. 
George  fared  no  better  in  Holland  when  he  asked  for  the 
Scotch  Brigade.  The  Prince  of  Orange  was  sufficiently 
ready,  but  the  States-General  hesitated,  and  the  only  result 
was  a  polite  offer  to  let  England  have  the  brigade  provided 


182  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

they  should  not  be  called  upon  to  serve  out  of  Europe, 
which  was  equivalent  to  a  refusal.  Among  the  little  states 
of  Germany,  George  had  better  luck.  Some  of  the  petty 
princes  offered  troops  voluntarily,  and  in  others  he  had  no 
difficulty  in  making  a  bargain.  The  wretched  grand  dukes, 
electors,  princes,  and  other  serene  persons  exacted  a  heavy 
price  for  the  men  whom  they  sold,  but  still  England  got 
the  men,  and  in  large  numbers,  especially  from  Brunswick 
and  Hesse  Cassel.  Frederick  of  Prussia,  on  the  other 
hand,  as  a  man  and  a  German,  regarded  with  feelings  akin 
to  loathing  this  sale  of  men  by  the  lesser  German  princes. 
At  a  later  time  he  would  not  even  permit  England's  mer 
cenaries  to  cross  his  territory,  for  he  had  no  sympathy  with 
George,  and  being  not  only  a  great  man  but  a  clear-sighted 
and  efficient  one,  he  looked  with  contempt  on  English 
incompetence  and  blundering,  and  predicted  the  success 
of  the  colonies.  Why  a  brave  and  powerful  people  like 
the  English  should  have  bought  soldiers  to  fight  their 
battles  in  a  civil  war  is  not  easy  now  to  understand.  It 
was,  however,  due  to  the  general  inefficiency  which  then 
prevailed  in  British  administration,  and  was  a  very  cost 
ly  expedient  apart  from  the  money  actually  spent,  for  it 
injured  England  in  European  opinion,  encouraged  and 
justified  the  colonies  in  seeking  foreign  aid,  and  smoothed 
the  path  for  American  diplomacy.  It  also  spurred  on  the 
Americans  to  fight  harder  because  foreign  mercenaries 
were  employed  against  them,  and  it  embittered  their  feel 
ings  toward  the  mother-country.  The  allies  obtained  by 
the  British  Ministry  in  Europe  were,  nevertheless,  in  the 
highest  degree  creditable  and  desirable,  compared  to  those 
whom  they  sought  and  procured  in  America  itself.  That 
they  should  have  enlisted,  paid,  and  organized  regiments 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE   HUDSON  183 

of  American  loyalists,  was  proper  enough,  but  when  they 
made  alliances  with  the  Indians  and  turned  them  loose  on 
the  frontier  settlements  and  against  American  armies,  they 
took  a  step  which  nothing  could  palliate  or  excuse.  To 
make  allies  of  cruel  fighting  savages,  and  set  them  upon 
men  of  their  own  race  and  blood,  was  something  which 
could  not  be  justified  and  it  met  with  its  fit  reward.  The 
Americans  knew  well  what  Indian  warfare  meant,  and 
when  England  sent  Indians  on  the  war-path  against  them, 
her  action  roused  a  burning  hatred  which  nothing  could 
appease.  If  it  was  the  King's  plan  to  drive  the  Americans 
to  desperation  and  make  the  retention  of  the  colonies  ab 
solutely  hopeless,  this  alliance  with  the  Indians  was  the 
surest  way  to  accomplish  that  result.  Yet  without  her 
Hessians,  Indians,  and  loyalists  it  must  be  admitted  Eng 
land  would  not  have  had  even  a  chance,  for  she  seemed 
unable  to  furnish  any  adequate  number  of  troops  herself. 
It  was  all  part  of  the  amazing  blundering  which  character 
ized  English  administration  in  the  American  Revolution, 
and  for  which  we  have  no  explanation  except  in  the  fact 
that  the  King  was  undertaking  the  work  of  government 
and  carefully  excluded  all  men  of  the  first  order  from  his 
councils. 

From  the  American  point  of  view  at  that  time,  how 
ever,  these  considerations,  as  well  as  the  ultimate  effect 
of  England's  policy  in  getting  allies,  were  by  no  means 
apparent.  All  they  saw  was  that  the  men  had  been  pro 
cured,  and  that  powerful  armies  and  fleets  were  coming 
against  them.  This  was  what  Washington  was  obliged 
to  face.  It  was  no  use  discussing  the  morals  or  the  policy 
of  buying  Germans.  There  they  were  under  the  English 
flag,  and  they  were  brought  to  America  to  fight. 


1 84          THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

Washington  certainly  was  under  no  illusions.  He 
knew  that  England  would  make  a  great  effort  and  was  a 
great  power.  He  knew,  too,  that  New  York  would  be 
the  first  object  of  British  attack.  It  was  the  essential 
strategic  point,  without  which  any  attempt  to  cut  off  New 
England  from  the  rest  of  the  colonies,  by  controlling  the 
line  of  the  Hudson,  would  be  utterly  barren.  Without 
any  delay  he  quitted  Boston,  the  scene  of  his  victory  on 
March  i;th,  and  was  in  New  York  by  April  i3th,  bring 
ing  with  him  all  the  troops  he  could  gather.  The  outlook 
there  was  dark  enough.  The  city  was  undefended  ;  most 
of  his  troops  were  new  recruits  ;  there  was  a  powerful 
Tory  party,  and  Tryon,  the  last  British  Governor,  was 
actively  intriguing  and  conspiring  with  the  loyalists  from 
his  station  on  a  man-of-war.  Congress,  on  the  other  hand, 
was  struggling  with  the  question  of  independence  and 
did  little  to  aid  him,  while  the  provincial  committees  had 
neither  the  experience  nor  as  yet  the  determination  of 
those  he  had  dealt  with  in  New  England.  Nevertheless, 
all  that  man  could  do  was  done.  Defensive  works  were 
completed  or  erected  on  Brooklyn  Heights,  on  Manhattan, 
at  Kingsbridge,  and  along  the  East  and  Hudson  Rivers. 
The  army  was  drilled  and  disciplined  after  a  fashion ;  the 
Tory  plottings  were  checked,  and  every  preparation  was 
made  which  energy  and  ability,  ill  supported,  could  devise. 

Yet  the  result  of  all  these  labors  when  the  hour  of 
conflict  approached  and  the  British  army  had  arrived,  was 
disheartening.  Washington  had  been  able  to  gather  ortly 
17,000  men.  Nearly  7,000  of  these  were  sick  or  on  fur 
lough,  and  he  thus  had  fit  for  duty  not  more  than  10,000 
men  to  cover  his  necessarily  extensive  line  of  works. 
With  this  small  force,  ill  armed,  inexperienced,  and  ill 


THE   FIGHT   FOR  THE   HUDSON  185 

provided,  he  was  called  upon  to  face  and  do  battle  with  a 
British  army  of  31,000  men  now  assembled  on  Staten  Isl 
and,  well-disciplined  regulars,  thoroughly  equipped  and 
provided,  and  supported  by  a  powerful  fleet  to  which 
Washington  had  nothing  to  oppose.  It  seemed  madness 
to  fight  against  such  odds  and  run  the  risk  of  almost  cer 
tain  defeat.  But  Washington  looked  beyond  the  present 
hour  and  the  immediate  military  situation.  As  usual, 
political  considerations  had  to  be  taken  into  account. 
To  give  up  New  York  without  a  struggle,  and  thus  have 
saved  his  army  intact  by  an  immediate  retreat  and  without 
fighting,  however  wise  from  a  military  point  of  view, 
would  have  chilled  and  depressed  the  country  to  a  peril 
ous  degree,  and  to  carry  on  a  popular  war  the  public  spirit 
must  be  maintained.  More  important  than  this  even  was 
the  danger  which  Washington  saw  plainly  far  away  to  the 
north,  where  Carleton  was  pressing  down  the  line  of  the 
lakes.  If  Sir  William  Howe  and  his  army  succeeded  in 
advancing  rapidly  and  meeting  him  before  winter  set  in,  it 
would  mean  the  division  of  the  northern  colonies  by  the 
British  forces  and  a  disaster  to  the  Americans  which 
could  probably  never  be  repaired.  Even  the  sacrifice  of 
an  army  would  be  better  than  this.  So  Washington  de 
termined  to  hold  his  ground  and  fight.  He  said  that  he 
hoped  to  make  a  good  defence,  but  he  was  not  blind  to 
the  enormous  risk,  to  the  impossibility  almost,  of  holding 
his  long  line  of  posts  with  so  few  men  and  with  an  enemy 
in  command  of  the  sea.  Even  while  he  wrote  cheerfully 
as  to  holding  his  positions  he  exhibited  the  condition  of 
the  army  to  Congress  in  the  plainest  terms,  and  constantly 
demanded  more  men.  But  even  if  he  had  known  defeat 
to  be  certain  he  still  had  to  consider  the  wishes  of  Con- 


1 86 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 


THE  BATTLE   OF  LONG  ISLAND. 

from  a  British  map  of  1776,  showing  the  positions  of  the  American  and  British  armies.     \_Thismap  contains 
afe-w  topographical  errors,  but  iti  the  main  the  disposition  of  the  forces  is  correctly  indicated.] 

gress  and  the  state  of  public  opinion,  and  he  likewise  felt 
that  present  defeat  would  result  in  a  larger  ultimate  vic 
tory,  if  by  delay  he  could  prevent  the  junction  of  the  main 
British  army  with  the  forces  from  the  north. 

Washington  was  unable  to  tell  just  where  the  attack 
would  come,  which  compelled  him  to  spread  out  his 
small  force  in  order  to  cover  so  far  as  possible  every 


...j.i 


GENERAL    NATHANIEL    GREENE. 
From  the  fainting  by  Charles  Willscn  Pf.ale,  1783. 


THE   FIGHT   FOR  THE   HUDSON  189 

point.     This  put  him  at  an  additional  disadvantage  when 
the   British   moved,  as  they  did  on  August  22d,  landing 
15,000  men  on  Long  Island,  and  following  this  up  on  the 
25th  with  the  German  division  under 
Heister,    with    forty    cannon.     The 
Americans  had  about  8,000  men,  half 
in   the  works   at    Brooklyn   and    half 
outside  to  meet  the   British  and  de 
fend  the  approaches.     The  whole  po 
sition  was  untenable  in  the  long  run 
because   the    English    controlled  the 
sea,  and  yet  New  York  could  not  be     p%^a*^T^^«^ 
held  at  all  if  Brooklyn  Heights  were 
in  the  hands  of  the  enemy.      It  was 

a  choice  of  evils,  and  it  is  easier  to  point  out  Washing 
ton's  military  error  in  trying  to  hold  Long  Island  than 
to  say  what  he  should  have  done.  It  was  also  a  serious 
mistake  to  divide  the  troops  and  leave  half  outside,  and 
to  this  mistake,  for  which  the  commander-in-chief  was 
finally  responsible,  was  added  a  series  of  misfortunes  and 
small  blunders.  The  command  on  Long  Island  had  been 
intrusted  to  General  Greene,  the  best  officer  Washington 
had,  but  just  before  the  British  landed,  Greene  was  strick 
en  with  a  violent  fever,  and  the  command  passed  first  to 
Sullivan  and  then  to  Putnam.  Both  were  brave  men  ; 
neither  was  a  soldier  of  great  ability  or  a  strategist,  and 
they  were  alike  ignorant  of  the  country  which  Greene 
knew  by  heart.  Sullivan  held  the  outposts  while  Putnam 
remained  at  Brooklyn  Heights  and  did  not  come  out  when 
the  fighting  began.  The  British  fleet  opened  a  heavy  fire 
on  the  New  York  works  early  on  August  2/th.  Mean 
time  the  British  forces  skilfully  divided,  and  well  guided 


1 90 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 


during  the  previous  day  and  night,  had  got  round  to  Sul 
livan's  rear  by  undefended  roads.  Sullivan,  hemmed  in 
on  all  sides,  made  a  vigorous  effort  to  retreat,  but  it  was 

useless.  Some  of  the 
Americans,  by  desperate 
fighting,  broke  through, 
but  many  were  captured, 
including  Sullivan  him 
self.  Lord  Sterling,  in 
command  of  the  other 
outlying  American  force, 
fared  almost  as  ill  as  Sul 
livan.  Attacked  on  both 
sides,  he  had  no  line  of 
retreat,  except  across  Go- 
wanus  Creek.  His  men 
made  a  gallant  stand,  and 
most  of  them  succeeded 
in  crossing  the  creek,  but 

Sterling  himself  and  many  of  his  division  were  taken 
prisoners.  The  Americans  outflanked,  outgeneralled,  and 
outnumbered  four  to  one,  were  badly  beaten  in  these  two 
actions.  They  lost  970  men  in  killed  and  wounded,  and 
1,077  captured,  while  the  British  loss  was  but  400. 

Washington,  when  he  heard  of  the  British  landing, 
had  sent  six  regiments  to  Brooklyn,  and  came  over  on  the 
day  of  the  action  only  to  witness  with  anguish  the  utter 
rout  of  the  detachments  under  Sullivan  and  Sterling. 
The  situation  produced  by  this  defeat  was  grave  in  the 
extreme,  for  the  troops  were  thoroughly  demoralized  by 
their  losses,  and  many  of  the  militia  actually  deserted.  It 
looked  as  if  the  American  army  were  doomed.  But  the 


GENERAL   ISRAEL   PUTNAM. 

•  portrait   by  H.  t.   Tompson,   after  a  pencil-sketch 
from  life  by  John   Trnmbull. 


THE   FIGHT   FOR  THE   HUDSON 


191 


British    delayed, 
and,  mindful  of 
Bunker  Hill,  in 
stead  of  at  once 
assaulting     the 
Brooklyn   i  n  - 
t  r  e  nchments, 
which  alone  pro 
tected    the     shattered 
American    army,    they 
broke   ground   for  a   siege 
This  gave  Washington  time 
and  time  was  all  he  needed.    He  brought 
over  reinforcements,  encouraged  his  men 
and  strengthened  his  works.    But  he  did 
not  mean  to  fight  there  except  as  a  last 
resource,  for  he  had  no  idea  of  stak 
ing  his  whole  army  on  a  single  ac 
tion  against  overwhelming  odds,  if 
he  could  avoid  it.     While  the  men 
labored   on  the  intrenchments,  he 
quietly  gathered  boats,  and  seeing 
on  the  29th  that  the  British  meant 
to  come  on  his  rear  with  their  fleet, 
he  embarked  his  whole  army  that 
night    and   crossed    successfully  to 
New  York.     It  was  a  masterly  re 
treat.       In    the    face    of    a    strong 

enemy  lying  within  gunshot,  with  a  hostile  fleet  close  at 
hand,  he  put  9,000  men  into  boats,  ferried  them  across  a 
broad  stream  swept  by  strong  tides  and  currents,  and  left 
behind  only  a  few  heavy  guns.  The  wind  was  light  and  a 


BATTLE  PASS,    PROSPECT  PARK, 
BROOKLYN. 

Showing-  a  part  of  the  battle-field. 
The  tablet  designates  the  line  of  defence. 


192 


THE  STORY   OF  THE  REVOLUTION 


thick  mist  helped  to  cover  the  movement.  Washington, 
in  the  saddle  and  on  foot  for  forty-eight  hours,  watched 
over  everything,  and  was  the  last  to  leave.  As  he  fol 
lowed  his  heavily  laden  boats  through  the  kindly  mist  and 
darkness  he  must  have  felt  a  sense  of  profound  relief,  for 
he  had  grasped  a  fortunate  chance  and  had  rescued  his 
army  from  an  almost  hopeless  position.  The  American 


PRESENT  VIEW  FROM  OLD  FORT  PUTNAM  (NOW  FORT  GREENE),  BROOKLYN. 
This  fort  formed  a  part  of  the  defences  on  Long  Island. 

forces  had  been  beaten  in  two  heavy  skirmishes,  but  the 
American  army  had  escaped.  It  was  possible  to  make 
the  raw  militia  who  had  been  defeated  in  their  first  open 
action  into  veterans,  for  they  lacked  nothing  toward  becom 
ing  good  soldiers  except  experience.  But  if  the  only  Ameri 
can  army  in  the  field  had  been  destroyed  at  the  very  outset 
of  the  contest,  the  Revolution  would  have  been  in  great 
peril.  Washington's  one  thought  was  to  hold  his  army 
together  and  fight  as  often  as  he  could,  but  whatever  hap- 


THE   FIGHT  FOR  THE   HUDSON  195 

pened,  that  army  which  he  commanded  must  never  be  dis 
solved.  He  had  fought  in  an  impossible  position,  been 
beaten,  and  saved  his  army  from  the  brink  of  destruction, 
taking  full  advantage  of  the  mistakes  of  his  opponents. 
Now,  on  Manhattan  Island,  he  faced  the  enemy  once 
more,  ready  to  fight  again.* 

Some  time  after  the  Battle  of  Long  Island  Jay  wrote 
that  he  had  often  thought  during  the  previous  spring  that 
it  would  be  best  to  destroy  New  York,  desolate  all  the 
country  about  it,  and  withdraw  up  the  river.  This  sugges 
tion  came  from  Greene  at  the  moment,  and  after  the  retreat 
from  Long  Island  Washington  took  it  up  and  submitted 
it  to  Congress.  From  a  military  point  of  view  the  de 
struction  of  the  city  was  the  just  conception  of  an  able 
general.  It  sounded  desperate,  but  it  was  really  the  wisest 
thing  to  do.  If  carried  out  it  would  have  forced  the  Brit 
ish  to  abandon  New  York  and  the  mouth  of  the  Hudson, 
it  would  have  left  them  on  the  edge  of  winter  without 
quarters,  and  in  the  end  probably  would  have  shortened 
the  war.  But  it  was  too  strong  a  measure  for  Congress, 
and  Washington  was  obliged  to  drop  the  idea.  As  the 
city  was  clearly  untenable  with  the  forces  at  his  command, 
there  was  no  further  resource  but  retreat,  and  on  Septem 
ber  loth,  although  a  majority  of  his  officers  were  still  loath 
to  abandon  the  town,  Washington  began  his  preparations 


*  The  best  statement  in  regard  to  the  Battle  of  Long  Island  by  a  professional  sol 
dier  is  that  of  General  Carrington,  U.  S.  A.,  in  his  "  Battles  of  the  American  Revolu 
tion."  The  whole  chapter  should  be  carefully  studied.  I  can  only  quote  here  a  few 
lines.  General  Carrington  says  (p.  212):  "The  Battle  of  Long  Island  had  to  be 
fought.  .  .  .  The  defence  was  doomed  to  be  a  failure  from  the  first,  independent 
of  the  co-operation  of  a  naval  force.  .  .  .  Washington  was  wise  in  his  purpose 
'  to  make  the  acquisition  as  costly  as  possible  to  his  adversary. '  .  .  .  The  people 
of  the  country  demanded  that  New  York  should  be  held  to  the  last  possible  moment. " 


196  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

for  withdrawal.     While    he  was  thus  engaged,  Howe,   on 
the   1 4th,  repeated  the  Long  Island  manoeuvre,  intending 
to  threaten  the  city  in  front  and  on  the  North  River  with 
the  fleet,  while  with  his  army  crossing  the  East  River  and 
landing  on  the  left  flank  he  could  cut  off  and  destroy  the 
American  army.      In  accordance  with  his  plan,  Howe,  on 
September  i5th,  landed  at  Kip's  Bay  and  drove  the  mili 
tia  posted  there  in  headlong  flight.     Washington  hearing 
the  firing,  rode  to  the  landing,  only  to  see  his  men  fleeing 
in  all  directions.     The  sight  of  their  panic  and  cowardice 
was  too   much  for  him.     The  fierce   fighting  spirit  which 
was  part  of  his  nature  broke  through  his  usually  stern  self- 
control  in  a  storm  of  rage.     He  rode  in  among  the  fugi 
tives  and  made  desperate  efforts  to  rally  them.      He  ex 
posed   himself    recklessly   to    death    or  capture,  and   was 
almost  dragged  from  the  field  by  his  officers.     Yet  despite 
this  disaster  he   managed  to  get  his  troops  together,  and 
although  Putnam  with  the  rear-guard  had  a  narrow  escape, 
Washington  finally  succeeded  in  bringing  his  whole  army 
safely  to   Harlem    Heights.     While  the  victorious  Howe 
took    possession  of  New  York,   and    proceeded   to   look 
about    him,    Washington    intrenched  himself  strongly  on 
the  Heights.     He  also  sent  out  detachments  under  Col 
onel  Knowlton,  the  hero  of  the  rail  fence  at  Bunker  Hill, 
and   Major  Leitch,  and  attacked  the  British  light  troops 
who  were  in  an  advanced  position.     The  light  troops  were 
defeated  and  forced  back  to  the  main  line,  but  the  Amer 
icans,  who  fought  well,  lost  both   Knowlton  and    Leitch. 
That  Washington,  with  a  demoralized  army,  in  the  midst 
of  disaster  and  retreat  should  have  assumed  the  offensive 
and  made  a  successful  attack,  is  an  example  of  his  power 
and  tenacity,  of  which  many  instances  were  yet  to  come. 


THE   FIGHT   FOR  THE   HUDSON 


197 


It  was  this  iron  determination  to  fight  at  every  opportunity, 
whether  after  victory  or  defeat,  which  enabled  him  to  con 
stantly  check  and  delay  the  British,  and  what  was  far  more 
important,  turned  his  raw  militia  into  an  army  of  steady, 
disciplined  fighters  with  a  blind  confidence  in  their  chief. 
Howe,  having  considered  the  situation,  decided  that 


**.z*x  >-yti& 

•"••^-v  Up^     f   ' 

^^%y 


THE  JUMEL  MANSION,    WASHINGTON  HEIGHTS,   NEW   YORK  CITY. 
For  a  time  Washington's  Head-quarters. 

the  Harlem  Heights  were  too  strong  for  a  front  attack, 
and  set  about  a  repetition  of  the  flanking  movements  of 
Long  Island  and  Kip's  Bay.  His  control  of  the  water 
with  the  fleet,  and  his  superior  numbers,  enabled  him  to 
do  this  with  success.  Washington,  seeing  just  what  was 
intended,  for  he  perfectly  understood  by  this  time  the 
British  generals,  who  were  not  given  to  complicated  intel 
lectual  operations,  had  no  mind  to  be  shut  up  on  Man- 


198  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

hattan  Island.  So  he  occupied  the  passes,  and  when 
Howe — it  was  now  October  i4th — attempted  to  land,  he 
held  him  back  until  he  had  withdrawn  his  army  to  the 
right  bank  of  the  Bronx,  holding  a  strong  line  from  Ford- 
ham  to  White  Plains.  After  five  days  the  British  ad 
vanced  again,  meeting  Glover's  brigade,  who  skirmished 
vigorously  and  fell  slowly  back  to  the  main  army.  By 
the  28th  the  two  armies  were  face  to  face,  and  Howe 
prepared  to  fight  a  great  battle  and  end  the  war.  They 
undertook  first  to  turn  the  American  left,  and  made  a 
heavy  attack  on  Chatterton's  Hill.  Twice  they  were 
repulsed  and  driven  back  with  severe  loss.  Rahl,  with 
his  Germans,  meantime  crossed  the  Bronx  and  turned 
the  American  right,  so  that  General  McDougal  was  forced 
to  abandon  Chatterton's  Hill  and  fall  back,  fighting  stub 
bornly,  to  the  lines  at  White  Plains.  The  great  and  de 
cisive  battle  failed  to  come  off  and  the  Americans,  more 
over,  were  learning  to  fight  in  the  open.  In  this  action 
they  lost  one  hundred  and  thirty  killed  and  wounded,  the 
British  two  hundred  and  thirty-one,  something  very  dif 
ferent  from  the  Long  Island  result.  The  next  day  Howe 
considered  the  propriety  of  an  assault,  but  thought  the 
works  too  strong.  Then  Lord  Percy  arrived  with  rein 
forcements,  but  it  stormed  on  the  following  day,  and  then 
Washington  quietly  withdrew,  leaving  the  British  looking 
at  the  works,  and  took  up  a  new  and  stronger  position  at 
Newcastle. 

While  Washington  was  awaiting  a  fresh  attack,  the 
enemy  began  to  move  to  Dobb's  Ferry,  whither  Howe 
himself  went  in  person  on  November  5th.  The  Ameri 
cans,  suspecting  a  movement  into  New  Jersey,  sent 
troops  across  the  river,  leaving  a  small  force  at  Peekskill 


THE   FIGHT   FOR  THE   HUDSON 


199 


to  guard  the  approach  to  the  Highlands.  But  Howe's 
object  was  not  what  the  Americans  supposed.  He  went 
back  for  the  purpose  of  capturing  Fort  Washington.  This 
fort  and  Fort  Lee,  on  the  opposite  bank  of  the  Hudson, 


•  97, 


SITE    OF   FORT    WASHINGTON,    NEW    YORK    CITY,    LOOKING    TOWARD    FORT 

LEE. 

were  intended  to  command  the  river,  a  purpose  for  which 
they  were  quite  inadequate.  Washington,  with  correct 
military  instinct,  wished  to  abandon  both,  but  especially 
Fort  Washington,  when  he  retreated  from  Manhattan. 
He  gave  way,  however,  to  the  judgment  of  a  council  of 
war,  and  especially  to  the  opinion  of  Greene,  who  declared 


200          THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

that  the  position  was  impregnable.  His  yielding  to  his 
council  was  a  mistake  on  this,  as  on  other  occasions,  and 
his  too  great  deference  to  the  opinion  of  his  officers  in  the 
early  years  of  the  war,  when  existing  conditions  very  likely 
forced  him  to  subordinate  his  own  views  to  those  of  others, 
was  usually  unfortunate.  In  this  instance  the  correctness 
of  his  own  judgment  and  his  error  in  not  standing  to  it 
were  soon  and  painfully  shown.  Greene  was  no  doubt 
mistaken  in  declaring  the  fort  impregnable,  but  if  it  had 
been  it  could  not  have  withstood  treachery.  It  is  now 
known,  through  a  letter  which  came  to  light  some  twenty 
years  ago,  that  William  Demont,  the  adjutant  of  Colonel 
Magaw,  went  into  the  British  lines  and  furnished  Lord 
Percy  with  complete  plans  of  the  works  and  a  statement 
of  the  armament  and  garrison.  This,  as  we  now  know, 
was  the  news  which  took  Howe  and  his  army  back  to  New 
York.  Washington  started  for  the  fort  as  soon  as  he 
learned  of  the  British  movement,  but  was  turned  back  by 
word  that  the  garrison  were  in  high  spirits,  and  confident 
of  maintaining  the  place.  They  had  no  idea  that  they 
had  been  betrayed,  and  Howe,  thoroughly  informed,  made 
a  skilful  attack  at  every  point,  and  carried  the  outworks. 
The  Americans,  driven  into  the  central  fort,  were  exposed 
on  all  sides.  They  could  not  even  hold  their  ground  until 
night,  at  which  time  Washington  promised  to  come  to 
their  relief,  desperate  as  the  attempt  must  have  been. 
They  therefore  surrendered  on  that  day  and  over  2,000 
men  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  British,  who  had  lost  454 
in  the  assault,  despite  the  advantages  which  Demont's  trea 
son  gave  them. 

After  the  fall  of  Fort  Washington,  Howe  crossed  over 
into  New  Jersey,  and  the  first  campaign  for  the  Hudson 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE   HUDSON  201 

came  to  an  end.  The  Americans  had  been  beaten  in 
nearly  every  engagement,  and  they  had  suffered  a  heavy 
loss  by  the  capture  of  the  fort.  Yet  the  British  campaign 
had  none  the  less  failed.  With  his  undisciplined  troops 
broken  and  demoralized  by  defeat,  Washington  had  out 
manoeuvred  his  adversary.  He  had  avoided  a  pitched  bat 
tle,  he  had  moved  from  one  strong  position  to  another, 
and,  although  so  inferior  in  numbers,  he  had  forced  Howe 
to  undertake  slow  and  time-wasting  flank  movements. 
Howe  consumed  two  months  in  advancing  thirty  miles. 
This  in  itself  was  defeat,  for  winter  was  upon  him  and  Carle- 
ton  had  been  forced  to  retire  from  Crown  Point  after  Ar 
nold's  brilliant  and  desperate  naval  fight  on  the  lake  which 
was  a  Pyrrhic  victory  for  the  British.  The  line  of  the 
Hudson  \vas  still  in  American  control,  and  the  American 
army,  much  as  it  had  suffered,  was  still  in  existence.  The 
British  incompetence  and  the  ability  of  Washington  were 
signally  shown  during  this  period  of  unbroken  British  suc 
cess,  when  all  the  odds  were  in  favor  of  Howe  and  against 
his  opponent. 


CHAPTER   IX 

TRENTON    AND    PRINCETON 

IT  is  easy  to  see  now  that  while  the  British  had  been 
highly  successful  in  their  immediate  objects,  they  had 
been  defeated  in  the  greater  object  upon  which  the 
fate  of  the  war  really  turned.  It  is  easy,  too,  to  appreciate 
the  ability  with  which  Washington  had  fought,  losing 
fights  in  such  a  way  as  to  defeat  the  essential  purpose  of 
the  English  campaign.  But  at  the  time  none  of  these 
things  were  apparent  and  they  were  not  understood.  At 
the  moment  the  country  saw  only  unbroken  defeat,  and 
the  spirit  and  hope  of  the  Americans  sank.  The  darkest 
hour  of  the  Revolution  had  come. 

Fort  Washington  fell  on  November  i6th.  This  ren 
dered  Fort  Lee  useless,  and  Washington  ordered  its  im 
mediate  evacuation.  While  the  necessary  preparations 
were  being  made,  the  enemy  landed  and  Greene  was 
forced  to  withdraw  in  great  haste,  saving  his  men,  but  los 
ing  everything  else.  He  at  once  joined  the  main  army, 
and  it  was  well  he  could  do  so,  for  the  situation  was  crit 
ical  in  the  extreme.  Washington  was  now  in  an  open  flat 
country,  where  he  could  not  slip  from  one  strong  position 
to  another,  and  hold  the  British  in  check  as  he  had  done  on 
the  Hudson.  His  army,  too,  was  going  to  pieces.  The 
continued  reverses  had  increased  desertions,  and  the  curse 

202 


TRENTON   AND   PRINCETON  205 

of  short  enlistments,  due  to  the  lack  of  foresight  and  de 
termination  in  Congress,  was  telling  with  deadly  effect. 
When  their  terms  expired,  the  militia  could  not  be  in 
duced  to  stay,  but  departed  incontinently  to  their  homes. 
Washington  sent  urgent  orders  to  Lee,  who  had  been  left 
behind  in  the  Highlands  with  3,000  men,  to  join  him,  but 
Lee,  who  thought  Washington  "  damnably  deficient,"  and 
longed  for  an  independent  command,  disobeyed  orders, 
lingered  carelessly,  and  talked  largely  about  attacking  the 
enemy  in  the  rear.  While  thus  usefully  engaged  he  was 
picked  up  by  a  British  scouting  party  and  made  a  prisoner. 
At  the  time  this  incident  was  thought  to  be  a  disaster,  for 
the  colonial  idea  that  Lee  was  a  great  man,  solely  because 
he  was  an  Englishman,  was  still  prevalent.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  it  was  a  piece  of  good  fortune,  because  although 
a  clever  man  he  was  a  mere  critic  and  fault-finder,  and 
was  an  endless  trouble  to  the  American  general. 

Washington,  holding  up  as  best  he  might  against  all 
these  reverses,  and  with  hardly  3,000  men  now  left  in  his 
army,  was  forced  to  retreat.  He  moved  rapidly  and  cau 
tiously,  holding  his  little  force  together  and  watching  the 
enemy.  The  British  came  on,  unresisted,  to  Trenton  and 
contemplated  an  advance  to  Philadelphia.  There  all  was 
panic,  and  the  people  began  to  leave  the  city.  In  New 
Jersey  many  persons  entered  the  British  lines  to  accept 
Howe's  amnesty,  but  this  movement,  which  might  easily 
have  gathered  fatal  proportions  in  the  terror  and  depres 
sion  which  then  reigned,  was  stopped  by  the  action  of 
the  British  themselves.  Parties  of  British  and  Hessian 
soldiers  roamed  over  the  country,  burned  and  pillaged 
houses,  killed  non-combatants,  ravished  women,  and  car 
ried  off  young  girls.  These  outrages  made  the  people 


IN  COUNCIL  OF  SAFETY* 

PHILADELPHIA,  December^,  1776. 
S  I  R, 

HP  HERE  is  certain  intelligence  of  General  Howe's  army  being 
yefterday  on  its  march  from  Brunfwick  to  Princetown,  vrhich  puts  it 
beyond  a  doubt  that  "he  intends  for  this  city. — This  glorious  oppor 
tunity  of  {ignalizing  hirafelf  in  defence  of  our  country,  and  feomng 
the  Rights  of  America  forever,  will  be  fefzed  by  every  man  who  has 
a  fpark  of  patriotic  fire  in  his  bofom.  We  entreat  you  to  march 
the  Militia  under  your  command  with  all  poflrble  expedition  to  this 
city,  and  bring  with  you  as  many  waggons  as  you  can  poflibly  pro 
cure,  which  you  are  hereby  authorized  to  imprefs,  if  they  cannot  be 
had  otherwife — Delay  not  a  moment,  it  may  be  fatal  and  fubj  eft  you 
and  all  you  hold  moft  dear  to  the  ruffian  hands  of  the  enemy,  whofe 
cruelties  are  without  diftin€tion  and  unequalled. 

By  Order  of  the  Council, 
DAVID    RITTENHOUSE,  Vice-Prefident. 

forte  COL'ONELS  or  COMMANDING 
O  F  FI  C  E  R  S  of  the  re/peStine  Battalions  of 
this  STATE, 

TWO     O'CLOCK,     P.M. 

THE  Enemy  are  at  Trenton,  and  all  the  City  Militia  are 
marched  to  meet  them. 

Reduced  from  a  broadside  issued  by  the  Council  of  Safety. 


TRENTON   AND   PRINCETON  207 

desperate,  and  they  stopped  seeking  amnesty  and  took 
up  arms. 

All  this  alarm,  moreover,  fortunately  came  to  nothing. 
The  winter  was  so  advanced  that  the  British  decided  not 
to  go  to  Philadelphia,  where  the  panic  nevertheless  contin 
ued  for  some  days,  and  after  Washington  had  been  forced 
to  cross  to  the  west  bank  of  the  Delaware,  Congress, 
thoroughly  frightened,  adjourned  to  Baltimore.  Before 
going,  however,  they  passed  a  resolution  giving  Washing 
ton  "full  power  to  order  and  direct  all  things  relative  to 
the  department  and  to  the  operation  of  the  war."  Thus 
they  put  all  that  was  left  of  the  Revolution  into  his  hands 
and  made  him  dictator.  They  could  not  have  done  a 
wiser  act,  but  they  were  imposing  a  terrible  burden  upon 
their  general. 

Never,  indeed,  did  a  dictator  find  himself  in  greater 
straits.  In  all  directions  he  had  been  sending  for  men  while 
by  every  method  he  sought  to  hold  those  he  already  had. 
Yet,  as  fast  as  he  gathered  in  new  troops  others  left  him, 
for  the  bane  of  short  enlistments  poisoned  everything.  He 
was  not  only  fighting  a  civil  war,  but  he  had  to  make  his 
army  as  he  fought,  and  even  for  that  he  had  only  these 
shifting  sands  to  build  on.  "  They  come,"  he  wrote  of  the 
militia,  "you  cannot  tell  when,  and  act  you  cannot  tell 
where,  consume  your  provisions,  waste  your  stores,  and 
leave  you  at  last  at  a  critical  moment."  He  was  as  near 
desperation  as  he  ever  came  in  his  life.  We  can  read  it 
all  now  in  his  letters,  but  he  showed  nothing  of  it  to  his 
men.  Schuyler,  always  faithful,  sent  him  some  troops. 
Sullivan,  too,  came  with  those  whom  Lee  had  tried  to  lead, 
and  then  it  was  found  that  the  terms  of  these  very  troops 
were  expiring  and  that  by  the  New  Year  Washington 


208  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

would  be  left  with  only  fifteen  hundred  men,  although 
at  the  moment  he  had  between  five  and  six  thousand  still 
with  him  and  in  outlying  detachments.  Opposed  to  him 
were  the  British,  30,000  strong,  with  head-quarters  in  New 
York,  and  strong  divisions  cantoned  in  the  New  Jersey 
towns.  Outnumbered  six  to  one,  ill  provided  in  every 
way,  and  with  a  dissolving  army,  it  was  a  terrible  situation 
to  face  and  conquer.  But  Washington  rose  to  the  height 
of  the  occasion.  Under  the  strain  his  full  greatness  came 
out.  No  more  yielding  to  councils  now,  no  more  modest 
submission  of  his  own  opinion  to  that  of  others.  A  lesser 
man,  knowing  that  the  British  had  suspended  operations, 
would  have  drawn  his  army  together  and  tried  to  house  and 
recruit  it  through  the  winter.  Washington,  with  his  firm 
grasp  of  all  the  military  and  political  conditions,  knew  that 
he  ought  to  fight,  and  determined  to  do  so.  He  accordingly 
resolved  to  attack  Trenton,  where  Colonel  Rahl  was  posted 
with  twelve  hundred  Hessians.  To  assure  success,  he 
made  every  arrangement  for  other  attacks  to  be  combined 
with  that  of  his  own  force,  and  they  all  alike  came  to 
nothing.  Putnam  was  to  come  up  from  Philadelphia,  and 
did  not  move.  Ewing  was  to  cross  near  Trenton,  but 
thought  it  a  bad  night,  and  gave  it  up.  Gates  had  already 
departed  from  Bristol,  whence  he  was  to  support  Wash 
ington,  and  had  gone  after  Congress  to  get  support  for 
himself.  Cadwalader  came  down  to  the  river,  thought 
that  it  was  running  too  fiercely,  and  did  not  cross.  They 
all  failed.  But  Washington  did  not  fail.  Neither  river 
nor  storm  could  turn  him,  for  he  was  going  to  fight.  On 
the  night  of  Christmas  he  marched  down  to  the  Delaware 
with  twenty-four  hundred  men,  who  left  bloody  footprints 
behind  them  on  the  snow.  The  boats  were  ready. 


WASHINGTON'S   TROOPS  DISEMBARKING   ON  THE    TRENTON  SHORE   OF  THE 

DELAWARE  RIVER. 


TRENTON   AND   PRINCETON 


211 


Glover's  Marblehead  fishermen  manned  them,  and  through 
floating  ice,  against  a  strong  current,  in  the  bitter  cold,  the 
troops  were  ferried  over.  It  was  four  o'clock  before  they 
were  formed  on  the  Jersey  side.  They  were  late  in  land 
ing,  they  had  still  six  miles  to  march  and  a  driving  storm 
of  sleet  and  snow  beat  in  their  faces.  Washington 
formed  his  little  force  in  two  columns,  one  under  Greene, 


THE  POINT  AT  WHICH  WASHINGTON  CROSSED  THE  DELAWARE  RWER. 

(As  it  no-u  appears.} 

one  under  Sullivan.  As  they  marched  rapidly  onward 
Sullivan  sent  word  that  the  muskets  were  wet  and  could 
not  be  fired.  "Tell  your  General,"  said  Washington,  "to 
use  the  bayonet,  for  the  town  must  be  taken."  So  they 
pressed  forward,  the  gray  winter  light  slowly  brightening 
around  them. 

In  the  town  to  which  they  were  bound  all  was  comfort. 
While  the  Americans  had  been  rowing  across  a  swollen 
river  amid  floating  ice  and  marching  with  blood-stained 


212  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

steps  through  storm  and  darkness,  the  Hessians  had  been 
celebrating  a  hearty  German  Christmas.  They  had  ca 
roused  late  and  without  fear.  Rahl  had  been  warned  that 
Washington  was  planning  an  attack,  but  contempt  for 
their  foe  was  again  uppermost  in  the  British  councils,  and 
he  laughed  and  paid  no  heed.  From  their  comfortable 
slumbers  and  warm  beds,  with  the  memories  of  their 
Christmas  feasting  still  with  them,  these  poor  Germans 
were  roused  to  meet  a  fierce  assault  from  men  ragged,  in 
deed,  but  desperate,  with  all  the  courage  of  their  race  ris 
ing  high  in  the  darkest  hour,  and  led  by  a  great  soldier 
who  meant  to  fight. 

Washington  and  Greene  came  down  the  Pennington 
road  driving  the  pickets  before  them.  As  they  advanced 
they  heard  the  cheers  of  Sullivan's  men,  as  with  Stark  in 
the  van  they  charged  up  from  the  river.  The  Hessians 
poured  out  from  their  barracks,  were  forced  back  by  a 
fierce  bayonet  charge,  and  then,  trying  to  escape  by  the 
Brunswick  road,  were  cut  off  by  Hand's  riflemen,  thrown 
forward  for  that  purpose  by  Washington.  Rahl,  half- 
dressed,  tried  to  rally  his  men,  and  was  shot  down.  It 
was  all  over  in  less  than  an  hour.  The  well-aimed  blow 
had  been  struck  so  justly  and  so  fiercely  that  the  Hessians 
had  no  chance.  About  two  hundred  escaped  ;  some  thirty 
were  killed,  and  nine  hundred  and  eighteen,  with  all  their 
cannon,  equipage,  and  plunder,  surrendered  at  discretion 
as  prisoners  of  war.  The  Americans  lost  two  killed  and 
six  wounded. 

The  news  of  the  victory  spread  fast.  To  convince  the 
people  of  what  had  happened,  the  Hessian  prisoners  were 
marched  through  the  streets  of  Philadelphia,  and  a  Hes 
sian  flag  was  sent  to  Baltimore  to  hang  in  the  Hall  of 


THE   SURPRISE  AT   TREXTON. 

The  fiesszans  poured  out  from  their  barracks   but  -were  forced  back  by   a  _fi<:rce   bayoiiet  charge. 


TRENTON   AND    PRINCETON 


215 


Congress.  The  spirits  of  the  people  rose  with  a  great  re 
bound.  The  cloud  of  depression  which  rested  upon  the 
country  was  lifted,  and  hope  was  again  felt  everywhere. 
Troops  came  in  from  Pennsylvania  and  New  Jersey,  and 
the  New  England  men  agreed  to  stay  on  after  the  expi 
ration  of  their  term  of  enlistment. 


OLD  KING  STREET  (NOW  WARREN  STREET),   TRENTON. 

On  the  right  is  a  building  which  was  occupied  by  the  Hessians.  On  the  site  of  the  •monument,  in  the 
background,  was  stationed  the  American  artillery,  which  commanded  the  street  and  Queen  Street,  along  which 
the  Hessians  were  quartered. 

The  blow  struck  by  Washington  fell  heavily  upon  the 
British.  Even  with  their  powerful  army  they  could  not 
afford  to  lose  a  thousand  men  at  a  stroke,  nor  would  their 
prestige  bear  such  sudden  disaster.  It  was  clear  even  to 
the  sluggish  mind  of  Howe  that  the  American  Revolution 
was  not  over,  and  that  Washington  and  an  American 
army  still  kept  the  field.  Trenton  must  be  redeemed,  and 
they  determined  to  finish  the  business  at  once. 


^          X 


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5v4  k 


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ft 


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:f 

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-. 


TRENTON   AND   PRINCETON  217 

Washington  with  his  fresh  troops  moved  first,  and  re- 
occupied  Trenton.  Cornwallis  set  out  against  him  with 
7,000  men  on  December  3oth.  He  outnumbered  Wash 
ington,  had  a  perfect  equipment,  and  intended  to  destroy 
his  opponents.  As  he  marched  from  Princeton  on  Janu 
ary  2d,  the  Americans,  under  Hand,  Scott,  and  Forrest, 
fought  him  at  every  step,  falling  back  slowly  and  disput 
ing  every  inch  of  the  ground,  as  Washington  had  directed. 
It  was  noon  before  they  reached  Shabbakong  Creek,  when 
two  hours  were  consumed  in  crossing  the  stream.  Then 
came  a  fight  at  Trenton,  where  they  suffered  severely  from 
the  American  fire,  but  when  they  charged,  the  Americans, 
having  but  few  bayonets,  gave  way,  retreated  from  the  town 
and  joined  the  main  army,  which  held  a  strong  position  on 
the  south  side  of  the  Assanpink.  The  British  opened  a 
heavy  cannonade  and  at  once  made  an  attempt  to  cross  the 
bridge,  which  was  repulsed.  Many  officers  urged  a  gen 
eral  and  renewed  attack,  but  the  short  winter  day  was 
drawing  to  a  close,  and  Cornwallis  decided  to  wait  until 
morning.  Washington  had  worn  out  the  day  with  stub 
born  skirmishing,  for  he  had  no  intention  of  fighting  a 
pitched  battle  with  his  ill-armed  men,  inferior  in  numbers 
to  their  well-equipped  opponents,  who  would  receive  rein 
forcements  in  the  morning.  Cornwallis  had  given  him  all 
he  wanted,  which  was  time,  a  gift  constantly  conferred  on 
Washington  by  the  British  generals.  He  had  checked  the 
enemy  all  day,  and  he  had  now  the  night  in  which  to  act. 
So  he  set  the  men  to  work  on  intrenchments,  lighted 
camp-fires  along  the  river-bank,  and  having  convinced 
Cornwallis  that  he  would  be  there  in  the  morning,  he 
marched  off  with  his  whole  army  at  midnight,  leaving  his 
fires  burning.  Cornwallis  had  left  all  his  stores  at  Bruns- 


218 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 


wick,  and  three  regiments  of  foot  and  three  companies  of 
horse  at  Princeton.  Thither  then  Washington  was  march 
ing  that  winter  night.  He  meant  to  strike  his  superior 
enemy  another  blow  at  a  weak  point.  By  daybreak  he 
was  near  Princeton,  and  moved  with  the  main  arrny 
straight  for  the  town,  while  Mercer  was  detached  \vith  three 
hundred  men  to  destroy  the  bridge  which  gave  the  most 

r 


H1M& 


QUAKER  MEETING-HOUSE,   NEAR  PRINCETON. 
Near  which  Washington  formed  his  troops  before  the  battle. 

direct  connection  with  Cornwallis.  The  enemy  had 
started  at  sunrise,  and  one  regiment  was  already  over  the 
bridge  when  they  saw  the  Americans.  Colonel  Mawhood 
at  once  recrossed  the  bridge,  and  both  Americans  and 
English  made  for  some  high  commanding  ground.  The 
Americans  reached  the  desired  point  first,  and  a  sharp 
fight  ensued.  The  American  rifles  did  great  execution, 
but  without  bayonets  they  could  not  stand  a  charge. 
Mercer  was  mortally  wounded,  and  his  men  began  to  re 
treat.  As  Mawhood  advanced,  he  came  upon  the  main 


TRENTON   AND   PRINCETON 


221 


American  army,  marching  rapidly  to  the  scene  of  action. 
The  new  Pennsylvania  militia  in  the  van  wavered  under 
the  British  fire,  and  began  to  give  way.  Washington  for 
getting,  as  he  was  too  apt  to  do,  his  position,  his  impor 
tance,  and  everything  but  the  fight,  rode  rapidly  to  the 
front,  reined  his  horse  within  thirty  yards  of  the  enemy, 
and  called  to  his  men  to  stand  firm.  The  wavering 
ceased,  the  Americans  advanced,  the  British  halted,  and 


STONY  BROOK  BRIDGE,  NEAR  PRINCETON. 


The  Americans  destroyed  it  to  cut  off  the  pursuing  British;  re 
built  1~Q2. 


then  gave  way.  The  Seventeenth  Regiment  was  badly 
cut  up,  broken,  and  dispersed.  The  other  two  fled  into 
the  town,  made  a  brief  stand,  gave  way  again,  and  were 
driven  in  rout  to  Brunswick.  Washington  broke  down 
the  bridges  and,  leaving  Cornwallis,  who  had  discovered 
that  he  had  been  outgeneralled,  to  gaze  at  him  from  the 
other  side  of  the  Millstone  and  of  Stony  Brook,  moved 
off  to  Somerset  Court-house,  where  he  stopped  to  rest  his 
men,  who  had  been  marching  and  fighting  for  eighteen 
hours.  It  was  too  late  to  reach  the  magazines  at  Bruns- 


222 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 


wick,  but  the  work  was  done.  The  British  suffered  se 
verely  in  the  fighting  of  January  2d,  although  we  have  no 
statistics  of  their  losses.  But  on  January  3d  at  Princeton 
they  lost  nearly  four  hundred  men  in  killed,  wounded,  and 
prisoners,  and  their  detachment  at  that  point  was  shattered 


HOUSE   AND  ROOM   IN 

WHICH  GENERAL 

MERCER  DIED. 

At  the  left  of  the  house  is  the  mon 
ument  recently  erected  to  Mer 
cer's  memory. 


and  dispersed.  Cornwallis  gave  up  his  plan  of  immedi 
ately  crushing  and  destroying  the  American  army,  stopped 
his  pursuit,  withdrew  all  his  men  to  Am  boy  and  Bruns 
wick,  contracted  his  lines,  and  decided  to  allow  the  efface- 
ment  of  the  American  army  to  wait  until  spring. 

The  Trenton  and  Princeton  campaign  was  a  very  re 
markable  one,  both  from  a  military  and  a  political  point 


TRENTON   AND   PRINCETON  223 

of  view.  Washington  found  himself,  after  a  series  of  de 
feats  and  after  a  long  retreat,  which,  however  skilfully 
managed,  was  still  retreat,  face  to  face  with  an  enemy  out 
numbering  him  in  the  proportion  of  six  to  one.  In  little 
more  than  a  week,  in  the  dead  of  winter,  with  a  dwindling 
army  of  raw  troops  shifting  and  changing  under  his  hand 
through  the  pernicious  system  of  short  enlistments,  he  had 
assumed  the  offensive  and  won  two  decisive  victories. 
He  had  struck  his  vastly  superior  foe  twice  with  superior 
numbers  on  his  own  part  at  the  point  of  contact,  so  that 
he  made  his  victory,  so  far  as  was  humanly  possible,  sure 
beforehand.  With  a  beaten  and  defeated  army  operating 
against  overwhelming  odds,  he  had  inflicted  upon  the 
enemy  two  severe  defeats.  No  greater  feat  can  be  per 
formed  in  war  than  this.  That  which  puts  Hannibal  at 
the  head  of  all  great  commanders  was  the  fact  that  he 
won  his  astonishing  victories  under  the  same  general  con 
ditions.  There  was  one  great  military  genius  in  Europe 
when  Washington  was  fighting  this  short  campaign  in 
New  Jersey — Frederick  of  Prussia.  Looking  over  the 
accounts  of  the  Trenton  and  Princeton  battles,  he  is  re 
ported  to  have  said  that  it  was  the  greatest  campaign  of 
the  century.  The  small  numbers  engaged  did  not  blind 
the  victor  of  Rossbach  and  Leuthen.  He  did  not  mean 
that  the  campaign  was  great  from  the  number  of  men  in 
volved  or  the  territory  conquered,  but  great  in  its  concep 
tion,  and  as  an  illustration  of  the  highest  skill  in  the  art  of 
war  under  the  most  adverse  conditions.  So,  in  truth,  it 
was.  Washington  was,  by  nature,  a  great  soldier,  and 
after  the  manner  of  his  race,  he  fought  best  when  the  tide 
of  fortune  seemed  to  set  most  strongly  against  him.  He 
had  complete  mastery  of  the  whole  military  situation,  and 


224 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 


knew  exactly  what  he  meant  to  do  while  his  opponents 
were  fumbling  about  without  any  idea,  except  that  the 
Americans  were  beaten  and  that  they  must  crush  the 
audacious  general  who  would  not  stay  beaten.  This  per 
fect  knowledge  of  all  the  conditions,  including  the  capac- 


NASSAU  HALL,   PRINCETON,   ERECTED  1756. 

Seized  by  the  British  in  1776;  retaken  by  Americans  at  the  Battle  of  Princeton,  January  3,  7777.  Here 
•met,  from  June  26,  1783  to  November  4,  1783^  the  Continental  Congress,  and  here  General  Washington  received 
the  grateful  acknowledgments  of  Congress  for  his  services  in  establishing  the  independence  of  the  United 
States. 


ity  of  the  generals  opposed  to  him,  combined  with  celer 
ity  of  movement  and  the  power  of  inspiring  his  men,  were 
the  causes  of  Washington's  success.  And  this  is  only 
saying,  in  a  roundabout  way,  that  Washington,  when  the 
pressure  was  hardest,  possessed  and  displayed  military 
genius  of  a  high  order. 

But  there  was  another  side  than  the  purely  military  one 


TRENTON   AND   PRINCETON  225 

to  this  campaign,  which  showed  that  Washington  was  a 
statesman  as  well  as  a  soldier.  The  greatest  chiefs  in  war 
ought  also  to  be  great  statesmen.  Some  few  of  them  in 
the  world's  history  have  combined  both  state  and  war  craft, 
but  these  are  on  the  whole  exceptions,  and  Washington 
was  one  of  the  exceptions.  He  not  only  saw  with  abso 
lute  clearness  the  whole  military  situation,  and  knew  just 
what  he  meant  to  do  and  could  do,  but  he  understood  the 
political  situation  at  home  and  abroad  as  no  one  else  then 
understood  it.  During  the  eighteen  months  which  had 
passed  since  he  took  command,  he  had  dealt  with  Congress 
and  all  the  State  governments  and  had  gauged  their  strength 
and  their  weakness.  He  had  struggled  day  after  day  with 
the  defects  of  the  army  as  then  constituted.  The  difficulties 
to  be  met  were  known  to  him  as  to  no  one  else  ;  he  had 
watched  and  studied  popular  feeling  and  was  familiar  with 
all  its  states  and  currents.  He  had  seen  the  rush  of  the 
first  uprising  of  the  people,  and  had  witnessed  the  power 
of  this  new  force  which  had  invaded  Canada,  seized  Ti- 
conderoga,  and  driven  British  armies  and  fleets  from  Bos 
ton  and  Charleston.  But  living  as  he  did  among  difficulties 
and  facing  facts,  he  also  knew  that  the  first  victorious  rush 
was  but  a  beginning,  that  a  reaction  was  sure  to  come, 
and  that  the  vital  question  was  whether  the  war  could  be 
sustained  through  the  period  of  reaction  until  the  armed 
people  could  arise  again,  more  soberly,  less  enthusiastically 
than  before,  but  disciplined  and  with  set  purpose  deter 
mined  to  win  by  hard,  slow,  strenuous  fighting.  The  first 
rush  passed.  The  inevitable  defeats  came  in  New  York. 
The  period  of  reaction  set  in  deeper  and  more  perilous 
perhaps  than  even  Washington  anticipated.  If  he  closed 
his  campaign  in  defeat  and  retreat,  the  popular  spirit  upon 

VOL.  I.— 15 


226  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

which  he  relied  would  not  probably  have  an  opportunity 
to  revive,  and  the  American  Revolution  would  never  see 
another  spring.  After  the  retreat  up  the  Hudson,  the  loss 
of  New  York,  and  the  steady  falling  back  in  New  Jersey, 
Europe  would  conclude  that  the  moment  England  really 
exerted  herself,  the  rebellion  had  gone  down  before  her 
arms,  and  all  hopes  of  foreign  aid  and  alliance  would  be 
at  an  end.  Without  a  striking  change  in  the  course  of 
the  war,  the  cause  of  the  American  people  was  certainly 
lost  abroad  and  probably  ruined  at  home.  This  was  the 
thought  which  nerved  Washington  to  enter  upon  that 
desperate  winter  campaign.  He  must  save  the  Revolu 
tion  in  the  field,  before  the  people,  and  in  the  cabinets  of 
Europe.  He  must  fight  and  win,  no  matter  what  the 
odds,  and  he  did  both. 

The  result  shows  how  accurately  he  had  judged  the 
situation.  After  Trenton  and  Princeton  the  popular  spirit 
revived,  and  the  force  of  the  armed  people  began  to  stir 
into  a  larger  and  stronger  life.  The  watchers  in  Europe 
doubted  now  very  seriously  England's  ability  to  conquer 
her  colonists,  and  began  to  look  on  with  an  intense  and 
selfish  interest.  The  American  people  awoke  suddenly  to 
the  fact  that  they  had  brought  forth  a  great  leader,  and 
they  turned  to  him  as  the  embodiment  of  all  their  hopes 
and  aspirations.  The  democratic  movement  destined  to 
such  a  great  future  had  passed  from  the  first  stage  of  vic 
torious  confidence  to  the  depths  of  doubt  and  reaction, 
and  now  after  Princeton  and  Trenton  it  began  to  mount 
again.  Congress  had  given  all  power  into  the  hands  of 
Washington,  and  left  the  united  colonies  for  the  time 
being  without  civil  government.  Washington  took  up 
the  burden  in  his  strong  hands  in  the  darkest  hour,  and 


TRENTON   AND    PRINCETON  227 

bore  it  without  flinching.  All  that  was  left  of  the  Ameri 
can  Revolution  during  that  Christmas  week  was  with 
Washington  and  his  little  army.  How  they  fared  in  those 
wintry  marches  and  sharp  battles,  in  storm  and  ice  and 
snow,  chilled  by  the  bitter  cold,  we  know.  The  separation 
of  the  North  American  Colonies  from  the  mother-country 
was  probably  inevitable.  It  surely  would  have  come  soon 
er  or  later,  either  in  peace  or  war.  But  it  is  equally  cer 
tain  that  the  successful  Revolution  which  actually  made 
the  United  States  independent,  was  saved  from  ruin  by 
George  Washington  in  the  winter  of  1776. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  BURGOYNE   CAMPAIGN 

ALONG  the  line  of  the  Hudson  alone  was  it  possible 
to  separate  one  group  of  colonies  from  the  rest. 
That  line  reached  from  the  sea  on  the  south  to 
the  British  possessions  in  Canada  on  the  north.  Once  in 
full  control  of  it  the  British  would  not  only  be  masters  of 
New  York,  but  they  would  cut  off  New  England  from  the 
other  colonies.  Nowhere  else  could  this  be  done.  At 
any  point  on  the  long  Atlantic  coast  they  might  seize  sea 
ports  or  even  overrun  one  or  more  colonies  ;  but  along  the 
Hudson  alone  could  they  divide  the  colonies,  and  by  divid 
ing,  hopelessly  cripple  them.  It  required  no  very  great 
intelligence  to  perceive  this  fact,  and  the  British  Ministry 
acted  on  it  from  the  start.  Carleton  descended  from  Can 
ada  in  the  summer  of  1776,  while  Howe  was  to  advance 
from  the  city  and,  driving  the  Americans  before  him,  was  to 
unite  with  the  northern  army  and  thus  get  the  control  of 
the  two  long  lakes  and  of  the  great  river  of  New  York. 
Carleton,  who  was  almost  the  only  efficient  officer  in  the 
British  service,  did  his  part  fairly  well.  He  came  down  the 
lakes  to  Crown  Point,  which  he  captured  and  advanced  as 
far  as  Ticonderoga.  Thence,  hearing  nothing  from  the 
south,  he  was  obliged,  by  the  season  and  by  his  victory  over 

Arnold  at  Valcour,  which  cost  him  so  dear  and  so  heavily, 

228 


THE  BURGOYNE  CAMPAIGN  229 

to  withdraw.  Howe,  on  his  side,  proceeded  to  force  back 
the  Americans,  and,  having  driven  them  some  thirty  miles 
when  he  needed  to  cover  nearly  four  hundred,  he  suddenly 
retraced  his  steps  and  captured  Fort  Washington,  a  seri 
ous  loss  at  the  moment  to  the  Americans,  but  of  no  perma 
nent  effect  whatever  on  the  fortunes  of  the  Revolution. 
The  essential  and  great  object  was  sacrificed  to  one  which 
was  temporary  and  unessential.  Howe  was  incapable  of 
seeing  the  vital  point.  Unenterprising  and  slow,  he  was 
baffled  and  delayed  by  Washington  until  summer  had  gone 
and  autumn  was  wearing  away  into  winter. 

Thus  failed  the  first  campaign  for  the  Hudson,  but 
even  while  it  was  going  to  wreck,  the  Ministry — deeply 
impressed  with  the  importance  of  the  prize — were  making 
ready  for  a  second  attempt.  This  time  the  main  attack 
was  to  be  made  from  the  north,  and  Sir  Henry  Clinton 
was  to  come  up  the  river  and  meet  the  victorious  army 
advancing  from  Canada.  In  order  to  insure  success  at  the 
start,  the  Ministry  set  aside  Carleton,  the  efficient  and  ex 
perienced,  and  intrusted  this  important  expedition  to  an 
other.  The  new  commander  was  Sir  John  Burgoyne.  A 
brief  statement  of  who  he  was  and  what  he  had  done  will 
show  why  he  was  selected  to  lead  in  the  most  serious  and 
intelligent  attempt  made  by  England  to  conquer  America 
—an  attempt  upon  which  the  fate  of  the  Revolution  turned 
when  success  meant  the  division  of  the  colonies,  and  defeat 
a  French  alliance  with  the  new  States.  Burgoyne  came 
of  a  good  family,  and  had  made  a  runaway  marriage  with 
the  daughter  of  Lord  Derby.  As  matters  went  then,  these 
were  sufficient  reasons  for  the  appointment  ;  but  in  justice 
to  Burgoyne,  it  must  be  said  that  he  had  other  attributes 
than  those  of  birth  and  marriage.  He  was  a  member  of 


230          THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

Parliament  and  a  clever  debater  ;  a  man  of  letters,  and  an 
agreeable  writer ;  a  not  unsuccessful  verse-maker  and  play 
wright  ;  a  soldier  who  had  shown  bravery  in  the  war  in 
Portugal  ;  a  gentleman  and  a  man  of  fashion.  He  had 
not  given  any  indication  of  capacity  for  the  command  of 
an  army,  but  this  was  not  thought  of  importance.  Let  it 
be  added  that,  although  as  a  soldier  he  was  the  worst  beat 
en  of  the  British  generals,  as  a  man  he  was  much  the  best, 
for  he  was  clever,  agreeable,  and  well-bred. 

Having  selected  their  commander,  the  Ministry  cordi 
ally  supported  him.  With  Lord  George  Germain,  whose 
own  prowess  in  battle  made  him  think  the  Americans  not 
only  rebels  but  cowards,  the  campaign  was  planned.  In  it 
the  Indians,  who  had  been  held  back  by  the  judicious 
Carleton,  were  to  play  a  large  part,  and  Canadians  also 
were  to  be  enlisted.  More  Germans  were  purchased,  and 
no  effort  was  spared  to  give  the  new  General  everything 
he  wanted.  There  was  only  one  oversight.  Lord  George 
Germain  put  the  orders  directing  Howe  to  join  Burgoyne 
in  a  pigeon-hole,  went  off  to  the  country  and  forgot  them. 
Thus  it  happened  that  Howe  did  not  receive  these  some 
what  important  instructions  until  August  i6th.  Hence, 
some  delay  in  marching  north  to  Burgoyne,  the  results  of 
which  will  appear  later.  But  this  was  mere  forgetfulness. 
The  Ministry,  with  this  trivial  exception  of  Howe's  or 
ders,  meant  to  give  and  did  give  Burgoyne  everything  he 
wanted.  So  it  came  to  pass  that  on  June  i3th  at  St. 
Johns,  when  Burgoyne  hoisted  his  flag  on  the  Radeau,  and 
opened  his  campaign,  he  found  himself  at  the  head  of  a 
fine  army  of  nearly  8,000  men,  composed  of  4,135  English, 
3,116  Germans,  503  Indians,  and  148  Canadians.  They 
were  thoroughly  equipped  and  provided,  and  the  artillery 


THE  BURGOYNE  CAMPAIGN 


231 


C      A 


N     A     D] 

Mo^e 


was  of  the  best.  Another  force  of  1,000  men  under 
Colonel  St.  Leger  was  sent  to  the  west  to  reduce  Fort 
Stanwix  ;  this  done,  he 
was  to  descend  the 
Mohawk  Valley  and 
join  the  main  army  at 
Albany.  The  two  ex 
peditions  were  a  seri 
ous,  well  -  supported, 
and  well-aimed  attack 
at  a  vital  point,  and  if 
successful  meant  un 
told  disaster  to  the 
American  cause. 

All  began  well, 
with  much  rhetoric 
and  flourish  of  trum 
pets.  A  week  after 
hoisting  his  flag,  on 
June  2Oth,  Burgoyne 
issued  a  proclamation 
in  which  he  indulged 
his  literary  propensi 
ties,  and  no  doubt  en 
joyed  highly  the  pleas 
ure  of  authorship.  The 
King,  he  said,  was  just 
and  clement,  and  had 
directed  "that  Indians 
be  employed."  The 

Americans  he  declared  to    be  "  wilful    outcasts,"   and    in 
the   "  consciousness  of  Christianity  and  the  honor  of  sol- 


232 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 


diership  "  he  warned  them  that  the  messengers  of  justice 
and  wrath  awaited  them  on  the  field,  together  with  devasta 
tion,  famine,  and  every  con 
comitant  horror.  Having 
thus  appealed  to  every  Amer 
ican  to  turn  out  and  fight  him, 
he  announced  in  general  or 
ders  that  "  this  army  must  not 
retreat,"  and  took  his  way  up 
Lake  Champlain,  the  Indians 
in  their  war-paint  leading  the 
van  in  their  canoes,  and  the 
British  and  Germans  follow 
ing  in  a  large  flotilla  with 
bands  playing  and  banners 
flying. 

At  the  start  all  went  well 
and  victoriously.  Schuyler, 
in  command  of  the  northern 

department,  had  been  laboring  with  energy  to  repair 
the  lines  of  defence  broken  by  Carleton's  invasion  of 
the  previous  summer,  and  make  ready  for  the  coming 
of  the  new  attack.  But  he  had  been  unsupported  by 
Congress  and  had  been  manfully  struggling  with  really 
insuperable  difficulties.  Instead  of  the  proper  garrison 
of  5,000  men  at  Ticonderoga,  there  were  barely  2,500 
ill-armed  continental  troops,  and  nine  hundred  militia,  a 
force  far  too  small  to  maintain  a  proper  line  of  works. 
The  British  at  once  seized  some  unoccupied  and  com 
manding  heights  and  opened  a  plunging  fire  on  the 
American  position  with  such  effect  that  St.  Clair,  who 
was  in  command  at  Ticonderoga,  decided  that  the  place 


GENERAL   PHILIP    SCHUYLER. 

From  the  painting  by  Trumbull  (1-92)  in  the 
Yale  College  4rt  Gallery.  (Said  to  be  the 
only  portrait  of  General  Schiiyler  now  in  ex- 
is  tenet.) 


THE  BURGOYNE  CAMPAIGN 


233 


was  untenable,  and  on  the  night  of  July  5th  abandoned  it. 
He  sent  the  women  and  wounded  under  the  protection  of 
Colonel  Long  and  six  hundred  troops  by  boat  to  Skenes- 
boro'  where  they  were  attacked  and  the  American  flotilla 
destroyed.  Long  thereupon  withdrew  to  Fort  Anne,  and 
the  next  day  fought  a  good  action  there,  but  being  out 
numbered,  he  abandoned  the  position  and  retreated  to  Fort 


RUINS   OF    OLD    FORT   FREDERICK,    CROWN  POINT— AT  THE  PRESENT  TIME. 

Edward,  where  he  joined  Schuyler.  Meantime,  St.  Clair, 
assailed  on  his  retreat  by  the  British,  with  whom  his  rear 
guard  fought  stubbornly,  made  his  way  also  to  Fort  Ed 
ward  and  joined  Schuyler  on  the  i2th.  The  united  Amer 
ican  force  numbered  less  than  5,000  men,  ill-armed  and 
unprovided  in  every  way.  Schuyler,  however,  faced  the 
situation  bravely  and  with  no  sign  of  flinching  or  panic, 
did  at  once  and  effectively  the  wisest  thing  possible. 


234 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 


The  British  had  allied  themselves  with  the  Indians,  Schuy- 
ler  made  the  wilderness  the  ally  of  the  Americans.  He 
destroyed  all  the  wood  roads,  burnt  the  bridges,  filled 
up  the  practicable  waterways  with  logs  and  stones,  and 
stripped  the  country  of  cattle  and  all  provisions.  Doing 
this  diligently  and  thoroughly,  he  fell  back  slowly  to  Fort 
Miller,  ruining  the  road  as  he  passed,  and  thence  to  Still- 
water,  where  he  intrenched  himself  and  awaited  reinforce- 


THE  HOME   OF  GENERAL   PHILIP  SCHUYLER  AT  OLD  SARATOGA,  NEAR 
SCHUYLERVILLE. 

ments,  Arnold  in  the  meantime  having  joined   him  with 
the  artillery. 

Burgoyne,  on  the  other  hand,  elated  by  easy  victory, 
sent  home  a  messenger  with  exulting  tidings  of  his  success, 
when,  in  reality,  his  troubles  were  just  beginning.  The 
country  sparsely  settled,  and  hardly  opened  at  all,  sank 
back  under  Schuyler's  treatment  to  an  utter  wilderness. 
The  British  in  New  York,  New  Jersey,  and  Massachusetts 
had  been  operating  in  a  long-settled  region  where  the 
roads  were  good.  Now  they  were  in  a  primeval  forest, 


THE  BURGOYNE  CAMPAIGN 


235 


with  every  foot-path  and  track  destroyed,  every  bridge 
burned,  every  creek  choked.  Burgoyne  had  to  cut  a 
new  road,  build  forty  bridges, 
and  reopen  Wood  Creek.  He 
consumed  twenty-four  days  in 
marching  twenty  -  six  miles, 
from  Skenesboro'  to  Fort  Ed 
ward,  and  after  arriving  there, 
on  July  3oth,  he  was  obliged 
to  wait  until  August  i5th  for 
the  arrival  of  his  artillery  and 
heavy  ammunition  from  Lake 
George. 

Even  while  his  jubilant 
message  was  on  its  way  to 
London,  the  wilderness,  un 
der  Schuyler's  wise  manage 
ment,  had  dealt  him  this  deadly  blow  of  fatal  delay.  Nor 
was  this  all.  The  employment  of  the  Indians,  who  had 
been  ravaging  and  scalping  from  the  day  the  British 
crossed  the  frontier,  had  roused  the  people  of  the  north 
as  nothing  else  could  have  done.  The  frontiersmen  and 
pioneers  rose  in  all  directions,  for  the  scalping  of  wounded 
soldiers  awakened  in  the  Americans  a  fierce  spirit  of  re 
venge,  which  would  stop  at  no  danger.  The  idea  that  the 
Indians  would  terrify  the  Americans  was  a  foolish  dream. 
Nothing  in  reality  was  calculated  to  make  them  fight  so 
hard.  Perhaps  even  Burgoyne  may  have  had  a  glimmer 
ing  of  this  truth  when  two  of  the  allies  of  his  clement 
King  tomahawked  and  scalped  Miss  McCrea.  There  was 
nothing  unusual  about  the  deed,  but  the  unfortunate  girl 
happened  to  be  a  loyalist  herself  and  betrothed  to  a  loyal- 


GENERAL  JOHN  BURGOYNE. 

From  an  engraving  (after   the  fainting  by  Gard~ 

ner)  published  in  1^4. 


236  THE  STORY   OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

ist  in  Burgoyne's  camp,  whither  she  was  travelling  under 
the  escort  of  the  Indians  who  murdered  her.  Thus  Bur 
goyne's  invasion,  his  Indians,  and  his  proclamations 
aroused  the  country,  and  Schuyler's  treatment  of  forest 
and  stream  gave  the  delay  necessary  to  allow  the  people  to 


™ 


THE  RAVINE  AT  O  RISK  A  NY,   NEW   YORK. 

The  tall  elm  on  the  left  7vas  said  to  be  standing  at  the  time.  The  Indian  allies  lay  in  ambush  on  the 
hill-sides,  -which  -were  then  densely  -wooded,  and  attacked  the  Americans  as  they  crossed  on  the  road  in  the 
foreground. 

rise  in  arms.      Even  while  Burgoyne  was  toiling  over  his 
twenty-six  miles  of  wilderness,  the  mischief  had  begun. 

The  first  blow  came  from  the  west.  Much  was  ex 
pected  from  the  strong  expedition  directed  against  Fort 
Stanwix,  and  much  was  staked  upon  it.  When  St.  Leger 
arrived  there  on  August  2d,  with  his  Indians  and  loyalists 
as  allies,  he  summoned  it  to  surrender.  Colonel  Ganse- 


THE  BURGOYNE  CAMPAIGN 


239 


voort  refused,  and  the  British  began  a  regular  siege.  Here, 
too,  all  that  was  needed  was  time.  The  hardy  pioneers  of 
that  frontier  county  rallied  under  General  Herkimer,  and 
to  the  number  of  eight  hundred  marched  with  him  to  re 
lieve  Gansevoort.  When  within  eight  miles  of  Fort  Stan- 
wix,  Herkimer  halted  and  sent  a  messenger  to  the  fort 
with  a  request  that  on  his  arrival  three  guns  should  be 


GENERAL  HERKIMER' S    HOUSE    AT    DANUBE,    NEAR    LITTLE    FALLS,    NEW 

YORK, 


In    the  family  burying  ground  is  Herkimer' s  gravi 
ment  recently 


narked  by  the  flag,  to  the  right  is  the  base  of  the 
cted  to  his  memory. 


fired  and  a  sortie  made.  Impatient  of  delay,  Herkimer's 
officers  would  not  \vait  the  signal,  and  unwisely  insisted  on 
an  immediate  advance,  which  led  them  into  an  ambush  of 
the  British  and  their  Indian  allies.  Although  taken  at  a  dis 
advantage,  this  was  a  kind  of  warfare  which  the  Americans 
thoroughly  understood,  and  a  desperate  hand-to-hand  and 
tree-to-tree  fight  began.  Herkimer  was  mortally  wounded 
early  in  the  action,  but  the  brave  old  man  had  himself 
propped  up  with  his  saddle  against  a  tree,  and  continued 


240          THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 


to  issue  his  orders  and 
direct  the  battle.  This 
savage  fighting  went  on 
for  five  hours,  and  then 
at  last  the  guns  were 
heard  from  the  fort. 
Colonel  Willet  dashed 
out  on  the  British  camp 
with  two  hundred  and 

OLD    STONE    CHURCH   AT    GERMAN    FLATS        fifty     HICH,      deStl"Oyed 

some  of  the  intrench- 
ments,  and  captured 
prisoners,  camp  equi 
page,  and  five  flags.  He  could  not  get  through  to  Her- 
kimer,  but  the  Indians,  hearing  the  firing  in  their  rear, 
retreated,  and  were  soon  followed  by  the  loyalists  and 


IN  THE  MOHAWK   VALLEY. 

It  was  Intilt  in  1767  and  formed  fart  of  the  stockaded  de 
fence  of  Fort  Hfrkimer,  and  7cas  often  used  by  the  settlers  as 
a  place  of  refuge  from  the  raids  of  (he  Tories  and  Indians. 


THE  BURGOYNE  CAMPAICzN  241 

regular  troops,  leaving  Herkimer  master  of  the  field  and 
victor  in  the  hard-fought  backwoods  fight  of  Oriskany. 

St.  Leger,  despite  this  heavy  check,  still  clung  to  his  in- 
trenchments,  and  on  August  7th  again  summoned  the  fort 
to  surrender.  Gansevoort,  with  the  five  British  standards 
flying  below  the  new  American  flag,  made  from  strips  of 
an  overcoat  and  a  petticoat,  contemptuously  refused.  The 
besiegers  renewed  their  attack  in  vain,  and  were  easily 
repulsed.  Then  came  rumors  of  Arnold's  advance  to  the 
relief  of  the  fort  ;  the  Indians  fled,  and  St.  Leger,  deserted 
by  these  important  allies,  was  forced  to  raise  the  siege. 
On  August  22d  he  abandoned  his  works  in  disorder,  leav 
ing  his  artillery  and  camp  equipage,  and  made  a  disorderly 
retreat  to  Canada,  broken  and  beaten.  The  stubborn  re 
sistance  of  Gansevoort  and  the  gallant  fight  of  Herkimel 


CASTLE   CHURCH,   NEAR  DANUBE,   IN  THE  MOHAWK  VALLEY. 

Built  as  a  Mission  for  the  Indians  by  Sir  William  Johnson.     The  notorious  fir  ant  -was  taught  hert 
by  the  Missionaries,  and  lived  in  a  house  a  little  to  the  north  of  the  church. 

VOL.  i. — 16 


242 


THE  STORY   OF  THE  REVOLUTION 


had  triumphed.     Arnold  was  able  to  rejoin  Schuyler  with 
the  news  that  the  valley  of  the  Mohawk  was  saved.     The 

western  expedition  of  the  north 
ern  invasion  had  broken  down 
and  failed. 

While  St.  Leger  was  thus  go 
ing  to  wreck  in  the  west,  Bur- 
goyne's  own  situation  was  grow 
ing  difficult  and  painful.  Provi 
sions  were  falling  short,  and  the 
army  was  becoming  straitened  for 
food,  for  Schuyler  had  stripped 
the  country  to  good  purpose,  and 
to  the  difficulties  of  moving  the 
army  was  now  added  that  of  feed 
ing  it.  Bad  reports,  too,  came 
from  New  England.  It  ap 
peared  that  the  invasion  had 
roused  the  people  there  to  defend  their  homes  against  Ind 
ians  and  white  men  alike.  Stark  had  raised  his  standard 
at  Charlestown,  on  the  Connecticut  River,  and  the  militia 
were  pouring  in  to  follow  the  sturdy  soldier  of  Bunker 
Hill  and  Trenton. 

Nevertheless,  food  must  be  had,  and  these  gathering 
farmers,  who  seemed  disposed  to  interfere,  must  be  dis 
persed.  So  Burgoyne,  on  August  nth,  sent  Colonel 
Baum,  with  five  hundred  and  fifty  Hessians  and  British, 
and  fifty  Indians,  to  raid  the  country,  lift  the  cattle,  and 
incidentally  repress  the  rebellious  inhabitants  of  the  New 
Hampshire  grants.  Four  days  later  he  sent  Colonel  Brey- 
mann,  with  six  hundred  and  forty-two  Brunswickers,  to 
support  the  first  detachment,  for  Baum  had  asked  for  re- 


GENERAL  JOHN  STARK. 

From  a  fainting  ( after  Trumbull)  by  V.  D. 
Tenney,  at  the  State  Capitol  at  Con 
cord,  N.  H. 


THE  BURGOYNE  CAMPAIGN  243 

inforcements.  Apparently,  the  task  before  him  looked 
more  serious  than  he  anticipated.  Still  he  kept  on  stead 
ily,  and  on  August  i3th  encamped  on  a  hill  about  four 
miles  from  Bennington,  in  the  present  State  of  Vermont, 
and  proceeded  to  intrench  himself.  This  was  an  unusual 
proceeding  for  a  rapid  and  desolating  raid,  but  it  was  now 
apparent  that,  instead  of  waiting  to  be  raided,  the  New 
Englanders  were  coming  to  meet  their  foe. 

As  soon  as  Stark  heard  of  the  advance  of  Baum,  he 
marched  at  once  against  him  with  the  fifteen  hundred  men 
he  had  gathered  from  New  Hampshire  and  Massachusetts, 
disregarding  the  orders  he  had  received  meantime  to  join 
the  main  army  under  Schuyler.  On  August  i4th  he  was 
within  a  mile  of  the  Indo-Germanic  camp,  but  could  not 
draw  them  out  to  battle.  The  i5th  it  rained  heavily,  and 
Stark  kept  up  a  constant  skirmishing,  while  the  Hessians 
worked  on  their  intrenchments. 

August  1 6th  was  fair  and  warm,  and  Stark,  suspecting 
the  approach  of  reinforcements  to  the  enemy,  determined 
to  storm  the  hill,  a  rather  desperate  undertaking  for  undis 
ciplined  farmers,  armed  only  with  rifles  and  destitute  of 
side-arms  or  bayonets.  Nevertheless,  it  was  possible,  and 
Stark  meant  to  try.  Early  in  the  day  he  sent  five  hun 
dred  men,  under  Nichols  and  Herrick,  to  the  rear  of  the 
Hessian  position.  Baum,  honest  German  that  he  was, 
noticed  small  parties  of  Americans  making  their  way  tow 
ard  the  rear  of  his  intrenchments ;  but  he  had  never  seen 
soldiers  except  in  uniform,  and  he  could  not  imagine  that 
these  farmers,  in  their  shirt-sleeves  and  without  bayonets 
or  equipment,  were  fighting  men.  He  had  never  con 
ceived  the  idea  of  an  armed  people.  In  truth,  the  phe 
nomenon  was  new,  and  it  is  not  surprising  that  Baum  did 


244  THE  STORY   OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

not  understand  it.  He  concluded  that  these  stragglers 
were  peasants  flocking  to  the  support  of  their  King's 
hired  troops,  and  let  them  slip  by.  Thus  Stark  success 
fully  massed  his  five  hundred  men  in  the  rear  of  the  Brit 
ish  forces.  Then  he  made  a  feint,  and  under  cover  of  it 
moved  another  body  of  two  hundred  to  the  right.  This 
done,  he  had  his  men  in  position,  and  was  ready  to  attack. 
He  outnumbered  the  enemy  more  than  two  to  one,  but 
his  men  were  merely  militia,  and  without  bayonets — a 
badly  equipped  force  for  an  assault.  The  British,  on  the 
other  hand,  were  thoroughly  disciplined,  regular  troops,  in 
trenched  and  with  artillery.  The  advantage  was  all  theirs, 
for  they  had  merely  to  hold  their  ground.  But  Stark 
knew  his  men.  The  wild  fighting  blood  of  his  Scotch- 
Irish  ancestors  was  up,  and  he  gave  the  word.  The 
Americans  pressed  forward,  using  their  rifles  with  deadly 
effect.  The  Indian  allies  of  the  King,  having  no  illusions 
as  to  American  frontiersmen  in  their  shirt-sleeves  and 
armed  with  rifles,  slipped  off  early  in  the  fray,  while  the 
British  and  Hessians  stood  their  ground  doggedly  and 
bravely.  The  Americans  swarmed  on  all  sides.  They 
would  creep  or  run  up  to  within  ten  yards  of  the  works, 
pick  off  the  artillerymen  and  fall  back.  For  two  hours 
the  fight  raged  hotly,  the  Americans  closing  in  more  and 
more,  and  each  assault  becoming  more  desperate  than  the 
last.  Stark,  who  said  the  firing  was  a  "  continuous  roar," 
was  everywhere  among  his  men.  At  last,  begrimed  with 
powder  and  smoke  almost  beyond  recognition,  he  led  them 
in  a  final  charge.  They  rushed  over  the  works,  and  beat 
down  the  men  at  the  guns  with  clubbed  rifles.  Baum 
ordered  his  men  to  charge  with  the  bayonet ;  the  Ameri 
cans  repulsed  them  ;  Baum  fell  mortally  wounded,  and  his 


THE  BURGOYNE  CAMPAIGN 


247 


soldiers  surrendered.  It  was  none  too  soon.  Stark's 
judgment  had  been  right,  for  Baum's  men  had  hardly  laid 
down  their  arms  when  Breymann  appeared  with  his  de 
tachment  and  attacked.  Under  this  new  assault  the 

Americans    w  a  v  - 
ered,  but  Stark  ral- 


CATAMOUNT  TAVERN,  BENNINGTON, 
VT.,  THE  HEAD-QUARTERS  OF  GEN 
ERAL  STARK  AND  THE  COUNCIL 
OF  SAFETY. 

(Drawn  from  an  old  photograph.) 


lied  them,  and  put 
ting  in  the  one  hun 
dred  and  fifty  fresh 
Vermont  men,  un 
der  Warner,  re 
pulsed  the  Bruns- 
wickers,  and  Brey 
mann  retreated,  beaten  and  in  haste,  under  cover  of  dark 
ness.  Another  hour  and  he,  too,  would  have  been  crushed. 
There  was  no  strategy  about  the  action  at  Bennington. 
"  It  was  the  plain  shock  and  even  play  of  battle  ; "  sheer 
hard  fighting,  often  hand  to  hand,  and  the  American  farm 
ers  defending  their  homes,  and  well  led,  proved  more 


MONUMENT   AVENUE,    BENNINGTON,    AT    THE 
PRESENT  TIME. 


The   Battle   Mo, 


The  pedestal    to   the    right 


marks  the  site  of  the   Catamount  Tave 


248  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

than  a  match  for  the  intrenched  regulars.  Bennington 
showed  a  great  advance  over  Bunker  Hill,  for  here  the 
Americans  attacked  in  the  open  an  intrenched  position 
defended  by  artillery  and  carried  it.  The  well-aimed  rifles 
of  the  pioneer  settlers  of  the  New  England  hills  won  the 
day.  The  American  loss  was  eighty-two  killed  and 
wounded ;  the  British  two  hundred  and  seven,  which 
shows  the  superior  marksmanship  of  Stark's  men,  who,  as 
the  assaulting  force,  should  have  suffered  most.  But  the 
Americans  also  took  700  prisoners,  1,000  stand  of  small 
arms,  and  all  the  artillery  of  the  British.  It  was  a  deadly 
blow  to  Burgoyne.  The  defeat  of  St.  Leger  meant  the 
failure  of  an  important  part  of  the  campaign,  while  Ben 
nington  crippled  the  main  army  of  invasion  and  swept 
away  at  a  stroke  1,000  men. 

The  victories  of  Oriskany  and  Bennington  inspirited  the 
country.  Volunteers  began  to  come  in  increasing  num 
bers  from  New  York  and  New  England,  and  even  from 
the  extreme  eastern  counties  of  Massachusetts.  Wash 
ington,  hard  pressed  as  he  was,  but  with  characteristic 
generosity,  sent  Morgan's  fine  corps  of  Virginian  riflemen, 
while  Congress,  with  a  wisdom  which  resembled  that  of 
Lord  Germain,  in  setting  aside  Carleton,  selected  this  mo 
ment  to  supersede  Schuyler,  who  was  about  to  reap  the 
reward  of  his  wise  prevision  and  steadfast  courage.  The 
general  they  now  chose  for  the  northern  army,  and  upon 
whom  they  lavished  all  the  support,  both  moral  and  mate 
rial,  which  they  had  withheld  from  Schuyler,  was  Horatio 
Gates,  "  the  son  of  the  house-keeper  of  the  second  Duke 
of  Leeds."  Beyond  his  English  birth  and  his  somewhat 
remote  connection  with  the  British  peerage,  Gates  had  no 
claim  whatever  to  command  any  army.  It  is  but  just  to 


THE  BURGOYNE  CAMPAIGN 


249 


say  that  his  command  was  in  practice  largely  nominal,  but 
it  was  given  him  solely  because  Congress,  with  colonial 
habits  still  strong  upon  them, 
were  dazzled  by  the  fact  that 
he  was  an  Englishman.  It 
was  a  repetition  of  the  case 
of  Lee.  Gates,  although  an 
intriguer,  was  more  sluggish 
than  Lee,  less  clever  and  less 
malignant,  but  it  would  be 
hard  to  say  which  was  the 
more  ineffective,  or  which  the 
more  positively  harmful. 
Both  did  mischief,  neither  did 
good  to  the  cause  they  es 
poused.  In  the  present  in 
stance,  Gates  could  not  do 
any  fatal  injury,  for  the  armed 
people  had  turned  out  and  were  hunting  the  enemy  to  his 
death.  But  he  might  have  led  them  and  saved  much  time, 
and  not  lessened  the  final  result  by  weakness  of  spirit. 

When  he  took  command,  on  August  iQth,  Gates 
found  himself  at  the  head  of  an  army  in  high  spirits  and 
steadily  increasing  in  strength.  After  contemplating  the 
situation  for  three  weeks  he  marched  from  the  mouth  of 
the  Mohawk  to  Bemis's  Heights,  on  the  west  bank  of 
the  Hudson.  There  he  awaited  his  enemy,  and  a  very 
troubled  and  hard-pressed  enemy  it  was.  Burgoyne  had 
been  sorely  hurt  by  the  defeat  at  Bennington  ;  no  more 
men  came  from  the  north  ;  the  country  had  been  stripped  ; 
he  was  short  of  supplies,  which  had  to  be  brought  from 
Canada,  and  he  could  hear  of  no  relief  from  the  south. 


GENERAL   HORATIO   GATES. 


From  the  hitherto  unpublished  portrait  painted  by 
R.  E.  Pine,  1785. 


250          THE  STORY   OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

So  he  hesitated  and  waited  until,  at  last,  having  got  artil 
lery,  stores,  and  provisions  by  way  of  Lake  George,  he 
bethought  him  that  this  was  an  army  which  was  not  to 
retreat,  and  on  September  i3th  crossed  to  the  west  bank 
of  the  Hudson. 

An  additional  reason  for  his  doubts  and  fears,  which 
he  thus  finally  put  aside,  was  that  the  Americans  were 
threatening  his  line  of  communication.  General  Lincoln, 
with  two  thousand  men,  had  moved  to  the  rear  of  Bur- 
goyne.  Thence  he  detached  Colonel  Brown  with  five 
hundred  soldiers,  and  this  force  fell  upon  the  outworks  of 
Ticonderoga,  took  them,  released  a  hundred  American 
prisoners,  captured  nearly  three  hundred  British  soldiers 
and  five  cannon,  and  then  rejoined  Lincoln  at  their  leisure. 
The  net  was  tightening.  The  road  to  Canada  was  being 
closed  either  for  succor  or  retreat.  Yet  Burgoyne  kept 
on,  and  on  September  i8th,  when  Brown  and  his  men 
were  carrying  the  Ticonderoga  outworks,  he  stopped  his 
march  within  two  miles  of  the  American  camp  at  Bemis's 
Heights. 

The  next  morning,  the  igth,  about  eleven  o'clock,  the 
British  army  advanced  in  three  columns.  Burgoyne  com 
manded  the  centre  ;  Riedesel  and  Phillips,  with  the  artil 
lery,  were  on  the  left ;  while  Fraser,  commanding  the 
right,  swung  far  over  in  order  to  cover  and  turn  the  Amer 
ican  left.  Gates,  like  Stendhal's  hero,  who,  as  he  came  on 
the  field  of  Waterloo,  asked  the  old  soldier  if  the  fighting 
then  in  progress  was  a  battle,  seemed  to  regard  the  British 
advance  as  a  parade  and  watched  it  with  sluggish  interest 
but  without  giving  orders.  This  Arnold  could  not  stand, 
and  he  sent  Morgan's  riflemen  and  some  light  infantry  to 
check  Fraser.  They  easily  scattered  the  loyalists  and  Ind 


THE  BURGOYNE  CAMPAIGN 


ians,  and  then  fell  back  before  the  main  column.  Ar 
nold  then  changed  his  direction,  and  fresh  troops  having 
come  up,  attacked  the  British  centre  with  a  view  of  break 
ing  in  between  Bur- 
goyne  and  Fraser.  The 
action  thus  became  gen 
eral  and  was  hotly 
waged.  The  Americans 
attacked  again  and 
again,  and  finally  broke 
the  line.  Burgoyne  was 
only  saved  by  Riedesel 
abandoning  his  post  and 
coming  to  the  support 
of  the  central  column 
with  all  the  artillery. 
About  five  o'clock 
Gates,  rousing  from  his 
lethargy,  sent  Learned 
with  his  brigade  to  the 
enemy's  rear.  Had  this  been  done  earlier,  the  British  army 
would  have  been  crushed.  As  it  was,  the  right  moment 
had  gone  by.  It  was  now  too  late  for  a  decisive  stroke ; 
darkness  was  falling,  and  the  Americans  drew  off  to  their 
intrenchments,  the  enemy  holding  the  ground  they  had 
advanced  to  in  the  morning.  Such  was  the  battle  of 
Freeman's  Farm.  Had  Gates  reinforced  Arnold  or  sent 
Learned  forward  earlier,  the  result  would  have  been  far 
more  decisive.  Without  a  general,  led  only  by  their 
regimental  and  brigade  commanders,  the  American  troops 
had  come  into  action  and  fought  their  own  battle  in  their 
own  way  as  best  they  could.  If  they  had  been  directed 


OLD    BATTLE     WELL     ON    FREEMAN'S 
FARM,   AT  THE  PRESENT  TIME. 

Here  a  Fierce  Conflict  for  Possession  Took  Place. 


252 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 


by  an  efficient  chief,  they  would  have  ended  the  Burgoyne 
campaign  then  and  there.  As  it  was,  they  inflicted  a  se 
vere  blow.  The  Americans  had  about  3,000  men  en 
gaged ;  the  British  about  3,500.  The  American  loss  was 
283  killed  and  wounded,  and  38  missing.  The  British 
loss  in  killed  and  wounded,  according  to  their  own  re- 


CELLAR    AT   THE    PRESENT    TIME    IN    THE    MARSHALL    HOUSE,  SCHUYLER- 
VILLE,    WHICH   IV AS   USED  AS  A    HOSPITAL   FOR    THE  BRITISH. 

Through    the  door    is  seen   the  roo»i    in  -which   Madame  Riedesel  and  her   children   took  refuge  for  six  days. 


ports,  was  600.  Both  sides  fought  in  the  open,  and  the 
Americans,  after  the  first  advance,  attacked.  They  had 
few  bayonets  and  but  little  artillery,  while  the  British  had 
both  in  abundance,  yet  the  disparity  in  the  losses  showed 
again  the  superiority  of  the  American  marksmanship  and 
the  deadly  character  of  their  rifle  fire. 


THE  BURGOYNE  CAMPAIGN  255 

The  result  of  the  action  at  Freeman's  Farm  rejoiced 
the  Americans,  and  fresh  troops  from  the  surrounding 
country  kept  coming  into  camp.  Still  Gates  did  nothing 
except  quarrel  with  Arnold  and  relieve  him  from  his  com 
mand.  Instead  of  following  up  his  advantage  and  attack 
ing  Burgoyne,  he  sat  still  and  looked  at  him.  This  atti 
tude,  if  not  useful,  was  easy  and  pleasant  to  Gates ;  but  to 
Burgoyne — harassed  by  constant  skirmishing,  deserted  by 
his  Indians,  short  of  provisions,  and  with  no  definite  news 
of  the  promised  relief  from  the  south — it  was  impossible. 
He  had  heard  from  Clinton  that  a  diversion  was  to  be 
made  from  New  York,  and  this  tempted  him  to  say  that 
he  could  hold  on  until  October  i2th.  Lord  George  Ger 
main's  orders  had  indeed  been  found  in  their  pigeon-hole 
and  finally  despatched.  Reinforcements  also  had  been 
sent  to  Clinton,  and  thus  stimulated,  he  moved  out  of 
New  York  on  October  3d  with  a  large  fleet  and  3,000 
troops.  He  easily  deceived  Putnam,  crossed  to  King's 
Ferry  and  carried  the  weakly  garrisoned  forts — Montgom 
ery  and  Clinton.  Then  the  fleet  destroyed  the  boom  and 
chain  in  the  river,  and  the  Americans  were  compelled  to 
beach  and  burn  two  frigates,  which  were  there  to  defend 
the  boom.  This  accomplished,  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  op 
pressed  by  the  lateness  of  the  season,  retraced  his  steps, 
leaving  Vaughan  to  carry  the  raid  as  far  as  Kingston, 
which  he  burned,  and  then  to  retire,  in  his  turn,  to  New 
York.  This  performance  was  what  lured  Burgoyne  to 
stand  his  ground.  But  no  amount  of  hope  of  Clinton's 
coming  could  sustain  him  indefinitely.  Some  of  his  gen 
erals,  in  fact,  urged  retreat,  forgetting  that  this  particular 
army  was  not  to  retreat,  but  to  advance  continually.  Un 
der  the  pressure,  however,  Burgoyne  determined  to  try 


256  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

one  more  fight,  and,  if  unsuccessful,  fall  back  behind  the 
Batten  Kill. 

His  plan  was  to  make  a  reconnoissance  in  force  and 
with  this  object,  at  ten  o'clock  on  October  ;th,  Burgoyne 
left  his  camp  with  1,500  of  his  best  troops  and  10  pieces 
of  artillery.  Again  he  formed  them  in  three  columns, 
with  Fraser  on  the  right,  Riedesel  and  his  Brunswickers 
in  the  centre,  and  Phillips  on  the  left.  As  soon  as  the 
British  moved,  Gates  sent  out  Morgan  to  meet  the  enemy 
on  the  right  while  Learned  was  to  oppose  the  central  col 
umn,  and  Poor,  with  the  continentals,  was  to  face  Phillips. 
Poor  opened  the  battle  and,  supported  by  Learned,  at 
tacked  Acland's  grenadiers  and  broke  them  despite  their 
well-directed  fire.  Meantime,  Morgan  with  his  riflemen, 
and  Dearborn  with  the  light  infantry,  fell  upon  the  British 
right.  So  fierce  was  this  assault  that  Burgoyne.  seeing 
that  his  right  would  be  turned,  ordered  Fraser  to  fall  back 
and  take  a  new  position.  In  doing  so,  FYaser  was  mor 
tally  wounded  by  a  Virginian  rifleman.  While  the  wings 
were  thus  breaking,  the  Brunswickers  in  the  centre  held 
firm,  and  then  Arnold,  who  was  on  the  field  merely  as  a 
volunteer  and  with  no  command,  put  himself  at  the  head 
of  his  old  division  and  led  them  in  a  succession  of  charges 
against  the  German  position.  The  Brunswickers  behaved 
well  and  Burgoyne  exposed  himself  recklessly,  but  they 
could  not  stand  the  repeated  shocks.  One  regiment 
broke  and  was  rallied,  only  to  break  again.  The  Ameri 
cans  took  eight  of  the  ten  guns,  and  at  last  the  British 
were  forced  back  to  their  intrenched  camp,  where  they  ral 
lied  and  stood  their  ground.  There  Arnold  continued  his 
fierce  attacks  and  was  badly  wounded.  The  darkness 
alone  stopped  the  fight  and  saved  the  remnants  of  the 


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258  THE  STORY   OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

British  army,  but  it  had  been  a  disastrous  day  for  Bur- 
goyne.  Fraser  and  Breymann  were  both  killed,  and  Sir 
Francis  Clarke — Burgoyne's  first  aide.  The  British  lost 
426  killed  and  wounded,  200  prisoners,  nine  guns,  ammu 
nition,  and  baggage.  The  Americans  had  about  200 
killed  and  wounded. 

The  blow  was  a  deadly  one,  and  it  was  obvious  that 
nothing  now  remained  for  the  British  and  Germans  but  a 
desperate  effort  to  retreat.  After  burying  poor  Fraser  in 
the  intrenchments,  while  the  American  shot  tore  the  earth 
and  whistled  through  the  air  over  the  grave,  Burgoyne 
abandoned  his  sick  and  wounded  on  the  next  night  after 
the  battle  and  retreated  through  the  storm  to  Saratoga. 
But  the  attempt  was  hopeless,  and  even  Gates  could  not 
fail  to  conquer  him  now.  On  the  zoth,  when  he  tried  to 
see  if  there  was  escape  by  the  west  bank  of  the  Hudson,  he 
found  that  Stark,  the  victor  of  Bennington,  was  at  Fort 
Edward  with  2,000  men.  On  the  i  ith  the  Americans  scat 
tered  the  British  posts  at  the  mouth  of  the  Fishkill,  capt 
ured  all  their  boats  and  nearly  all  their  provisions.  On 
the  1 2th  Burgoyne  was  surrounded.  Outnumbered  and 
exposed  to  concentric  fire,  he  yielded  to  the  inevitable, 
and  on  the  i4th  sent  in  a  flag  of  truce  to  treat  for  a  sur 
render.  Gates  demanded  that  the  surrender  be  uncondi 
tional.  Burgoyne  refused  to  consider  it.  Thereupon 
Gates,  alarmed  by  rumors  of  the  raid  and  village  burning 
under  Vaughan,  instead  of  attacking  at  once,  gave  way 
feebly  and  agreed  to  a  convention  by  which  the  British 
surrendered,  but  were  free  to  go  to  England  on  agreeing 
not  to  serve  a^ain  against  America. 

o  o 

The  convention  was  an  inglorious  one  to  Gates  when 
he  actually  held  the  British  helpless  in  his  grasp,  but  it 


THE  BURGOYNE  CAMPAIGN  261 

answered  every  practical  purpose.  By  the  convention  of 
October  16,  1777,  a  British  general  with  his  army  number 
ing  5>79T  surrendered.  Eighteen  hundred  and  fifty-six 
prisoners  of  war  were  already  in  the  hands  of  the  Ameri 
cans.  Including  the  losses  in  the  field  and  in  the  various 
actions  from  Ticonderoga  and  Oriskany  to  Bennington 
and  Saratoga,  England  had  lost  10,000  men,  and  had  sur 
rendered  at  Saratoga  forty-two  guns  and  forty-six  hundred 
muskets. 

The  victory  had  been  won  by  the  rank  and  file,  by  the 
regiments  and  companies,  for  after  the  departure  of  Schuy- 
ler  there  was  no  general-in-chief.  The  battles  were  fought 
under  the  lead  of  division  commanders  like  Arnold,  Mor 
gan,  or  Poor,  or  else  under  popular  chiefs  like  Herkimer 
and  Stark.  But  it  was  the  American  people  who  had 
wrecked  Burgoyne.  He  came  down  into  that  still  unset 
tled  region  of  lake  and  mountain  with  all  the  pomp  and 
equipment  of  European  war.  He  brought  with  him  Ind 
ian  allies,  and  the  people  of  New  York  and  New  England 
knew  well  what  that  meant.  They  were  not  disciplined 
or  uniformed,  and  they  had  no  weapons  except  their  rifles 
and  hunting-knives.  But  they  could  fight  and  they  knew 
what  an  Indian  was,  even  though  they  had  never  seen  a 
Hessian  or  a  British  grenadier.  They  rose  up  in  Bur- 
goyne's  path,  and,  allied  with  the  wilderness,  they  began 
to  fight  him.  Regular  troops  came  to  their  support  from 
Washington's  army,  and  militia  were  sent  by  the  States 
from  the  seaboard.  Thus  the  Americans  multiplied  while 
the  British  dwindled.  The  wilderness  hemmed  in  the 
trained  troops  of  England  and  Germany,  and  the  men,  to 
whom  the  forests  and  the  streams  were  as  familiar  as  their 
own  firesides,  swarmed  about  them  with  evergrowing  num- 


262          THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

bers.  At  last,  the  English  army,  reduced  one  half,  beaten 
and  crippled  in  successive  engagements,  ringed  round  by 
enemies,  surrendered.  Again,  and  more  forcibly  than  ever, 
facts  said  to  England's  Ministers  :  "  These  Americans  can 
fight ;  they  have  been  taught  to  ride  and  shoot,  and  look  a 
stranger  in  the  face  ;  they  are  of  a  righting  stock ;  it  is  not 
well  in  a  spirit  of  contempt  to  raid  their  country  and 
threaten  their  homes  with  Indians  :  if  you  do  this  thing  in 
this  spirit,  disaster  will  come."  As  a  matter  of  fact,  disas 
ter  came,  and  Burgoyne's  expedition,  the  most  important 
sent  by  England  against  her  revolted  colonies,  failed  and 
went  to  wreck. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE    RESULTS   OF   SARATOGA 

SARATOGA,  where  Burgoyne's  surrender  took 
place,  is  counted  by  Sir  Edward  Creasy  among 
the  fifteen  decisive  battles  of  the  world.  By 
this  verdict  the  American  victory  comes  into  a  very 
small  and  very  memorable  company.  The  world's  history 
is  full  of  battles  and  sieges,  and  among  this  almost  count 
less  host  only  fifteen  are  deemed  worthy,  by  an  accom 
plished  historian,  to  take  rank  as  decisive  in  the  widest 
sense,  and  as  affecting  the  destiny  of  mankind.  By  what 
title  does  Saratoga  rise  to  this  dignity  ?  Certainly  not 
from  the  numbers  engaged,  for  they  were  comparatively 
small.  The  victory  was  complete,  it  is  true,  but  an  army 
of  10,000  men  has  been  beaten  and  has  surrendered  many 
times  without  deciding  anything,  not  even  the  issue  of  a 
campaign.  From  the  military  point  of  view  the  blow  was 
a  heavy  one  to  England,  but  she  has  suffered  much  greater 
losses  than  this  in  her  career  of  conquest  and  still  has 
come  out  victorious. 

The  fact  is  that  the  significance  of  Saratoga  lies  less 
in  what  it  actually  was,  than  in  what  it  proved  and  what 
it  brought  to  pass.  It  showed  the  fighting  quality  of  the 
American  people,  and  demonstrated  that  they  were  able 

to  rise  up  around  a  powerful  and  disciplined    force    and 

263 


264  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

hunt  it  down  to  ruin  and  surrender.  The  prospect  of 
conquering  a  people  capable  of  such  fighting,  defended 
by  three  thousand  miles  of  ocean  and  backed  by  the 
wilderness,  was  obviously  slight.  Saratoga  meant,  further, 
that  the  attempt  to  control  the  Hudson,  and  thus  divide 
the  States,  had  definitely  failed.  The  enormous  advantage 
of  a  country  united  for  military  purposes  had  been  won, 
and  the  union  of  the  new  States,  which,  physically  as  well 
as  politically,  was  essential  to  victory,  had  been  secured, 
and,  once  secured,  this  meant  ultimate  success.  Last,  and 
most  important  of  all,  the  surrender  of  Burgoyne  and  the 
utter  wreck  of  his  campaign  convinced  Europe  of  these 
very  facts,  or,  in  other  words,  assured  foreign  powers  that 
the  revolted  colonies  would  win  in  the  end.  It  required 
the  keen  intellect  of  Frederick  the  Great  to  appreciate 
Trenton  and  Princeton.  He  realized  that  those  battles, 
flashing  out  from  the  clouds  of  defeat  and  misfortune, 
meant  that  the  Americans  had  developed  a  great  leader, 
a  soldier  of  genius,  and  that  under  such  a  man  a  fighting 
people  could  not  be  beaten  by  an  enemy  whose  base  of 
supplies  was  3,000  miles  away.  But  no  Frederick  was 
needed  to  comprehend  Saratoga,  where  there  had  been 
no  strategy,  nothing  but  hard,  blunt  fighting,  ending  in 
the  effacement  of  a  British  army  and  the  ruin  of  a  cam 
paign  of  vital  importance.  This  was  clear  to  all  men  in 
the  despatches  which  announced  Burgoyne's  surrender, 
and  the  knowledge  brought  America  supplies,  money, 
and  allies.  Alone,  the  colonies  could  not  be  conquered. 
With  a  European  alliance  their  victory  became  certain. 

To  understand  exactly  what  was  wrought  by  the  fight 
ing  in  those  northern  forests,  it  is  necessary  to  know  the 
conditions  existing  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic  at  the 


THE   RESULTS    OF   SARATOGA  265 

time  when  the  men  of  New  York  and  Virginia  and  New 
England  finally  brought  their  quarry  down  at  Saratoga. 
The  American  Revolution  was  fought  out  not  only  in  the 
field  but  in  the  Cabinets  of  Europe  as  well.  The  new  na 
tion  not  only  had  to  win  battles  and  sustain  defeats,  but 
also  to  gain  recognition  at  the  great  tribunal  of  public  opin 
ion  and  prove  its  right  to  live.  Statesmen  were  required 
as  well  as  commanders  of  armies  and  captains  of  frigates, 
in  order  to  break  the  British  Empire  and  establish  a  new 
people  among  the  nations  of  the  earth.  The  statesmen 
came.  They,  indeed,  had  begun  the  work,  for  it  had 
fallen  to  them  to  argue  the  American  cause  with  Eng 
land,  and  then  to  state  to  the  world  the  reasons  and  neces 
sity  for  independence.  Even  before  this  was  done,  how. 
ever,  it  had  become  evident  to  the  leaders  in  Congress 
that  the  American  cause,  in  order  to  succeed,  must  be 
recognized  in  Europe,  and  must  even  obtain  there  an  ac 
tive  support.  So  it  came  about  that  the  political  leaders 
in  America,  after  this  was  fairly  understood,  as  a  rule 
either  returned  to  their  States,  where  the  most  energetic 
assistance  could  be  given  to  the  Revolution,  or  went 
abroad  to  plead  their  country's  cause  in  foreign  lands. 
Congress  sank  in  ability  and  strength  in  consequence,  but 
as  it  never  could  have  been  an  efficient  executive  body 
in  any  event,  this  was  of  less  moment  than  that  the  high 
est  political  ability  of  the  country  should  be  concentrated 
on  the  most  vital  points.  Thus  it  was  that  the  strength 
of  American  statesmanship,  after  the  Declaration  of  In 
dependence,  instinctively  turned  to  diplomacy  as  the  field 
where  the  greatest  results  could  be  achieved,  and  where 
alone  allies,  money,  and  supplies  could  be  obtained.  The 
beginnings  were  small  and  modest  enough,  and  Congress 


266  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

hesitated  in  this  direction  as  long  and  as  seriously  as  it  did 
in  regard  to  independence  ;  for  foreign  aid  and  alliance, 
as  much  as  war,  meant  final  separation  from  the  mother- 
country. 

The  resistance  of  the  colonies  to  England  had  gradually 
attracted  the  attention  of  Europe.  The  continental  gov 
ernments  generally  were  slow  to  see  the  importance  of 
this  transatlantic  movement ;  but  the  French,  still  smarting 
under  the  loss  of  Canada,  were  quick  to  perceive  how 
much  it  might  mean  to  them  in  the  way  of  revenge. 
Bunker  Hill  roused  them  and  riveted  their  attention. 
Vergennes,  watching  events  closely  and  from  the  first 
eager  to  strike  at  England,  secretly  sent  M.  de  Bon- 
vouloir,  a  former  resident  of  the  West  Indies,  to  visit 
America  and  report.  De  Bonvouloir,  on  reaching  Phila 
delphia,  had  a  private  interview  with  Franklin,  and  re 
ported  that,  although  the  resistance  to  England  was  deter 
mined,  the  Americans  hesitated  to  seek  foreign  aid.  This, 
without  doubt,  was  a  true  picture  of  the  situation  and  of 
the  state  of  American  feeling  at  that  time.  Yet,  a  little 
later,  in  December,  1775,  Congress  made  a  first  timid 
step  toward  outside  assistance  by  authorizing  Arthur  Lee 
—then  in  London — to  ascertain  the  feeling  of  the  Euro 
pean  governments  in  regard  to  the  colonies.  Arthur  Lee 
was  one  of  the  distinguished  brothers  of  the  well-known 
Virginian  family.  He  was  intelligent  and  well-educated, 
having  taken  a  degree  in  medicine  and  then  studied  law 
He  was  an  accomplished  man  with  a  good  address,  and 
ample  knowledge  of  the  world  and  of  society.  In  ability 
he  did  not  rise  to  the  level  of  the  very  difficult  task  which 
developed  before  him  later,  and  he  proved  to  have  a  jeal 
ous  and  quarrelsome  disposition  which  led  him  to  intrigue 


THE   RESULTS    OF   SARATOGA  267 

against  Franklin  and  into  other  serious  troubles.  At  this 
time,  however,  he  did  very  well,  for  he  had  been  the  agent 
of  Massachusetts,  and  knew  his  ground  thoroughly.  He 
seems  to  have  obtained  good  information,  and,  what  was 
still  more  important,  he  came  into  relations  with  a  man 
who  at  this  juncture  was  destined  to  be  of  great  service  to 
America.  This  was  Beaumarchais,  mechanician  and  mer 
chant,  orator  and  financier,  writer  and  politician.  Above 
all,  Beaumarchais  was  the  child  of  his  time,  the  author  of 
"The  Barber  of  Seville,"  the  creator  of  "Figaro,"  which 
played  its  part  in  preparing  the  way  for  what  was  to  come. 
As  the  child  of  his  time,  too,  he  was  infected  with  the 
spirit  of  change,  filled  with  liberal  views  and  hopes  for 
humanity,  which  were  soon  to  mean  many  things  besides 
a  philosophic  temper  of  mind.  So  the  American  cause 
appealed  to  him  as  Frenchman,  speculator,  adventurer,  and 
friend  of  humanity  and  progress.  He  saw  Lee  in  London  ; 
is  said  to  have  gone  there  eight  times  for  that  purpose  ; 
and  presently  stood  as  the  connecting  link  between  the 
ancient  monarchy  and  the  young  republic  of  America. 

Vergennes,  pressing  steadily  toward  action  in  behalf  of 
the  revolting  English  colonies,  was  opposed  in  the  Cabinet 
by  Turgot,  who  sympathized  deeply  with  the  American 
cause,  but  rightly  felt  that  France  was  in  no  condition  to 
face  another  war.  With  Turgot  was  Maurepas,  and  Ver 
gennes  could  advance  but  slowly  in  his  policy.  Never 
theless,  he  got  something  done.  In  May,  1776,  he  sent 
$200,000  to  the  Americans,  and  persuaded  Spain  to  do  the 
same.  It  was  all  effected  very  secretly  through  Beau 
marchais,  but  still  it  was  done. 

Meantime,  Congress  was  moving,  too.  In  March, 
1776,  it  appointed  Silas  Deane,  a  merchant  of  Connecti- 


268          THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

cut,  as  agent  and  commissioner  to  France,  to  secretly 
sound  the  government,  and  also  to  see  what  could  be 
done  in  Holland.  Deane  was  an  energetic,  pushing  man, 
who  rendered  good  service,  but  he  was  careless  in  making 
contracts,  was  attacked  and  misrepresented  by  Lee,  re 
called  from  Europe,  and  being  injudicious  in  his  defence, 
he  dropped  out  of  public  life.  Like  Lee,  however,  he  did 
well  in  the  early  days.  He  reached  France  in  July,  1776, 
and  was  admitted  on  the  nth  to  an  interview  with  Ver- 
gennes.  On  the  2Oth  he  obtained  a  promise  of  arms,  and 
again  Beaumarchais  was  authorized  to  supply  merchandise 
to  the  value  of  three  million  livres.  When  the  Declara 
tion  of  Independence  was  known,  Vergennes  urged  action 
more  strongly  than  ever,  and  Congress — now  that  the  die 
was  cast — discussed  the  draft  of  a  treaty  with  France,  and, 
what  was  far  more  important,  appointed  Franklin  as  a 
commissioner  with  Deane  and  Lee  to  negotiate  with  the 
French  Government.  Franklin  reached  Paris  as  the  year 
was  drawing  to  a  close,  and  was  received  with  enthusiastic 
warmth.  He  was  known  all  over  Europe,  and  especially 
in  France,  where  his  reputation  as  a  man  of  science  and  a 
philosopher,  as  a  writer  and  philanthropist,  added  to  his 
fame  as  a  public  man,  made  him  as  popular  and  admired 
as  he  was  distinguished.  His  coming  changed  the  com 
plexion  of  affairs  and  gave  a  seriousness  to  the  negotiations 
which  they  had  lacked  before.  Public  sympathy,  too,  was 
awakened,  and  Lafayette,  young  and  enthusiastic,  prepared 
to  depart  at  his  own  expense  to  serve  as  a  volunteer  in 
the  cause  of  liberty.  So,  too,  went  De  Kalb,  and  a  little 
later,  Pulaski  ;  and  then  Kosciusko,  together  with  a  crowd 
of  less  desirable  persons  who  saw  in  the  American  war  a 
field  for  adventure. 


THE    RESULTS    OF    SARATOGA  269 

On  December  28th  Franklin  was  received  by  Ver- 
gennes  and  greatly  encouraged  by  him.  The  opposition 
in  the  Cabinet  was  giving  way,  and  although  nothing 
could  be  done  with  Spain,  despite  the  efforts  of  Ver- 
gennes  to  make  her  act  with  France,  American  affairs 
were  moving  smoothly  and  propitiously.  Then  came  the 
news  of  the  defeats  on  the  Hudson,  and  everything  was 
checked.  It  seemed,  after  all,  as  if  it  was  not  such  a  seri 
ous  matter,  as  if  England  had  but  to  exert  herself  to  put 
an  end  to  it,  and  so  there  was  a  general  drawing  back. 
France  stopped  on  the  way  to  a  treaty  and  refused  to  do 
anything  leading  to  war.  She  continued  to  secretly  ad 
vance  money,  sent  ships  with  arms,  and  allowed  American 
privateers  in  her  ports,  but  beyond  this  she  would  not  go, 
and  all  the  popularity  and  address  of  Franklin  were  for 
the  time  vain. 

But  as  the  months  wore  away,  the  attention  of  Europe 
was  fixed  on  the  northern  campaign  which  was  to  break 
the  colonies  and  crush  the  rebellion.  Before  the  year 
closed,  the  news  of  Saratoga  had  crossed  the  Atlantic.  It 
was  received  in  England  with  consternation,  Lord  North 
was  overwhelmed.  He  saw  that  it  meant  a  French  alli 
ance,  the  loss  of  the  colonies,  perhaps  French  conquests. 
He  went  as  far  as  he  could  in  framing  conciliatory  propo 
sitions,  and  appointed  a  commission  to  take  them  to 
America — but  it  was  all  too  late.  As  Washington  said, 
an  acknowledged  independence  was  now  the  only  possible 
peace.  The  King,  who  was  not  clever  like  Lord  North, 
failed  to  see  the  meaning  of  Saratoga,  and  was  ready  to 
face  a  world  in  arms  rather  than  yield  to  rebels.  In  Eng 
land,  therefore,  Burgoyne's  surrender  brought  nothing  but 
abortive  concessions,  which  two  vears  earlier  would  have 


2/0  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

settled  everything,  and  fresh  preparations  for  a  struggle 
fast  drawing  into  hopelessness. 

In  France  the  result  was  widely  different.  Paris  heard 
the  tidings  of  Saratoga  with  joy,  and  Vergennes  received 
the  commissioners  on  December  i2th.  He  made  no  se 
cret  of  his  pleasure  in  the  news  which  sustained  the  posi 
tion  he  had  taken,  and  he  also  understood,  what  very  few 
at  that  moment  comprehended,  the  immense  importance 
and  meaning  of  Washington's  stubborn  fighting  with 
Howe  while  the  northern  victories  were  being  won.  On 
December  2Oth  Franklin  and  Deane  were  informed  that 
the  King  would  acknowledge  the  colonies  and  support 
their  cause.  On  February  6th  two  treaties  were  made 
between  France  and  the  United  States,  one  of  amity  and 
commerce,  and  the  other  an  eventual  treaty  of  defensive 
alliance.  On  March  2oth  the  American  commissioners 
were  at  Versailles  and  were  presented  to  the  King,  and  on 
the  22d  they  were  received  by  Marie  Antoinette.  On 
April  loth  Gerard  was  sent  as  Minister  to  the  United 
States,  and  the  alliance  was  complete.  England,  formally 
notified  of  the  treaties,  accepted  them  as  an  act  of  war. 
Burgoyne's  surrender  had  done  its  work,  and  France  had 
cast  her  sword  into  the  scale  against  England.  The  men 
who  had  fought  side  by  side  with  British  soldiers,  and 
gloried  in  the  winning  of  Canada,  were  now  united  with 
the  French,  whom  they  had  then  helped  to  conquer,  in  the 
common  purpose  of  tearing  from  the  empire  of  Britain 
the  fairest  and  greatest  part  of  her  colonial  dominion. 
The  English  Ministers  and  the  English  King,  who  had 
made  such  a  situation  possible  by  sheer  blundering,  may 
well  have  looked  with  wonder  at  the  work  of  their  hands. 

The  diplomacy  of  the  Americans  was  as  fortunate  as 


THE   RESULTS    OF   SARATOGA  271 

their  conduct  of  the  original  controversy  with  the  mother- 
country.  Almost  everywhere  they  secured  a  reception 
which  assured  them,  if  not  actual  support,  at  least  a  be 
nevolent  neutrality.  Russia  refused  troops  to  England 
and  manifested  a  kindly  interest  in  the  new  States.  Hol 
land,  \vho  had  herself  fought  her  way  to  freedom,  and  could 
not  forget  her  kindred  in  the  New  World,  not  only  refused 
to  give  troops  to  George  III.,  but  openly  sympathized 
with  the  rebels,  and  later  lent  them  money,  for  all  which 
she  was  to  suffer  severely  at  the  hands  of  England.  The 
northern  powers  stood  aloof  and  neutral.  Austria  sym 
pathized  slightly,  but  did  nothing.  Spain,  despite  the 
pressure  of  Vergennes,  could  not  be  stirred,  and  Lee's 
expedition  to  Burgos,  where  he  met  Grimaldi,  in  the  win 
ter  of  17/6-77,  bore  no  fruit.  Lee,  who  was  not  lacking 
in  zeal  and  energy,  also  went  to  Berlin.  He  was  well 
received  there  by  Frederick,  who  looked  with  unfeigned 
contempt  on  the  blundering  of  his  cousin  George,  and  pre 
dicted  the  success  of  the  colonies,  but  who  would  not  at 
that  moment  engage  himself  in  the  controversy.  While 
Lee  was  in  Berlin,  the  British  Minister,  Elliott,  hired  a 
thief  for  one  thousand  guineas  to  break  into  the  American 
Envoy's  room  and  steal  his  papers.  Lee  recovered  the 
papers  on  complaining  to  the  police,  but  this  unusual 
diplomatic  performance  caused  Frederick  to  refuse  to  see 
Elliott,  to  enter  on  his  Cabinet  record  that  the  act  of  the 
British  Minister  was  "a  public  theft,"  and  to  increase  the 
kindness  and  consideration  with  which  he  treated  Lee. 

On  the  whole,  the  diplomacy  of  the  new-born  nation 
was  highly  successful.  The  American  representatives 
made  a  good  impression  wherever  they  appeared,  and 
turned  to  excellent  account  the  unpopularity  of  England. 


272  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

They  soon  satisfied  themselves  that  they  had  nothing  to 
fear  from  Europe  and  much  to  hope  which  cleared  the 
ground  and  enabled  the  United  States  to  face  the  future 
with  the  knowledge  that  England  could  look  for  no  aid 
against  them  outside  her  own  resources.  They  were  des 
tined  to  get  much  more  from  Europe  than  this  negative 
assurance  ;  but  the  beginning  was  well  made.  The  scene 
of  their  greatest  efforts  was,  of  course,  in  France,  and 
there  they  attained  to  the  height  of  their  desires  on  the 
strength  of  Burgoyne's  surrender.  Congress,  appreciating 
more  and  more  the  work  to  be  done  abroad,  sent  out  John 
Adams  to  replace  Deane.  He  arrived  after  the  signing  of 
the  treaties,  but  his  coming  was  most  fortunate,  for  Frank 
lin's  colleagues  were  disposed  to  be  jealous  of  him  and  to 
intrigue  against  him.  As  so  often  happens,  they  were  in 
ferior  men,  who  could  not  understand  why  the  superior 
man  was  looked  up  to  as  the  real  leader.  But  no  jealousy 
could  obscure  the  facts.  Franklin  was  the  hero  of  the 
hour  and  the  admired  of  Court  and  city.  His  simple 
ways,  his  strong  and  acute  intellect,  his  keen  humor,  his 
astute  diplomacy,  all  standing  out  against  the  background 
of  his  scientific  fame,  appealed  strongly  to  Frenchmen  and 
to  the  mood  of  the  hour.  Statesmen  listened  to  him  re 
spectfully,  the  great  ladies  of  the  brilliant  and  frivolous 
Court  flattered  and  admired  him,  the  crowds  cheered  him 
in  the  streets,  and  when  the  Academy  received  Voltaire, 
the  audience,  comprising  all  that  was  most  distinguished 
in  arts  and  letters,  demanded  that  he  and  Franklin  should 
embrace  each  other  in  their  presence. 

The  first  impulse  is  to  laugh  at  those  two  old  men, 
worn  with  experience  and  wise  with  much  knowledge  of 
the  world,  sceptics  both  in  their  different  ways,  solemnly 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN. 

•om  the  fainting  by  Duplessis,  77/5,  in   the  Pennsylvania   Academy  of  Fine  Arts,  Philadelphia.     O^ 

Paris,  France. 


ned  by  Dr.  Clifford  F.  Snydert 


THE   RESULTS    OF   SARATOGA  275 

kissing  each  other  amid  the  excited  plaudits  of  that  brill 
iant  assemblage.  It  seems  almost  impossible  not  to  imag 
ine  that  the  keen  sense  of  humor  which  both  possessed  in 
such  a  high  degree  should  not  have  been  kindled  as  the 
wrinkled,  withered  face  of  Voltaire  drew  near  to  that  of 
Franklin,  smooth,  simple-looking,  and  benevolent,  with 
the  broad  forehead  arching  over  the  cunning,  penetrating 
eyes.  Yet  this,  if  the  most  obvious,  is  also  the  superficial 
view.  Both  actors  and  audience  took  the  whole  ceremony 
with  seriousness  and  emotion,  and  they  were  right  to  do  so, 
for  there  is  a  deep  significance  in  that  famous  scene  of  the 
Academy.  Voltaire's  course  was  run,  while  Franklin  had 
many  years  of  great  work  still  before  him  ;  but  both  were 
children  of  the  century  ;  both  represented  the  great  move 
ment  of  the  time  for  intellectual  and  political  freedom, 
then  beginning  to  culminate.  Franklin,  although  he  had 
passed  the  age  of  the  Psalmist,  represented  also  the  men 
who  were  even  then  trying  to  carry  into  practice  what 
Voltaire  had  taught,  and  to  build  anew  on  the  ground 
which  he  had  cleared.  Voltaire  stood  above  all  else  for 
the  spirit  which  destroyed  in  order  to  make  room  for  bet 
ter  things.  If  Cervantes  laughed  Spain's  chivalry  away, 
Voltaire's  sneering  smile  had  shattered  faiths,  beliefs,  and 
habits  which  for  centuries  had  lain  at  the  very  foundation 
of  government  and  society.  Revolutions  in  thought  are 
not  made  with  rose-water,  any  more  than  other  revolu 
tions,  and  Voltaire  had  spared  nothing.  His  wonderful 
intellect,  as  versatile  as  it  was  ingenious,  had  struck  at 
everything  that  was  accepted.  The  most  sacred  beliefs 
and  the  darkest  superstitions,  the  foulest  abuses  and  the 
noblest  traditions,  had  all  alike  shrivelled  beneath  his 
satire,  quivered  under  his  scorn,  and  shrunk  from  his  ridi- 


276  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

cule.  Those  that  deserved  to  live  survived  it  all  to  bloom 
again.  Those  that  deserved  to  die  perished  beneath  the 
blight.  He  had  mocked  at  religion  until  scepticism  had 
become  fashionable,  and  the  Church  itself  was  laughed  at 
and  disregarded.  He  had  sneered  at  governments  and 
rulers  and  courts,  until  all  reverence  for  them  had  de 
parted.  He  had  lashed  the  optimism  of  those  who  pos 
sessed  the  earth,  until  their  doctrines  appeared  a  hideous 
sham,  and  the  miseries  of  men  the  only  realities.  He  was 
the  destroyer  without  whom  the  deep  abuses  of  the  time 
could  never  have  been  reached  or  remedied.  But  he 
offered  nothing,  and  men  cannot  live  on  negations.  As 
he  cleared  the  ground,  other  men  rose  up  seeking  to  re 
place  the  ruined  and  lost  ideals  with  new  and  better  hopes. 
If  mankind  was  miserable,  there  must  be  some  cure.  If 
governments  were  bad,  and  kings  and  courts  evil,  they 
must  be  replaced  by  the  people  whom  they  ruled  and 
oppressed.  If  the  Church  was  a  fraud,  and  religion  a 
superstition,  salvation  must  be  found  in  the  worship  of 
humanity. 

In  France,  bankrupt,  oppressed,  misgoverned,  and  yet 
the  intellectual  centre  of  Europe,  this  great  movement 
came  to  full  life.  It  was  there  that  the  old  dykes  had 
been  broken  and  the  rushing  tide  of  new  thought  had 
poured  in.  There  Voltaire  had  swept  men  from  their  old 
moorings,  and  there  Rousseau  and  many  others  were 
dreaming  dreams  and  seeing  visions  of  the  regeneration  of 
mankind.  Suddenly,  into  this  society  fermenting  with 
new  ideas  and  preparing,  all  unconsciously,  for  armed  rev 
olution,  came  the  news  of  the  American  revolt.  Here, 
then,  it  seemed  were  men  3,000  miles  away  who  were 
actually  trying,  in  a  practical,  tangible  manner,  to  do  that 


THE    RESULTS    OF    SARATOGA  277 

very  thing  about  which  the  intellect  and  the  imagination 
of  France  were  reasoning  and  dreaming.  Thus  the  Amer 
ican  appeal  thrilled  through  this  great  and  brilliant  French 
society  which  seemed  on  the  surface  so  remote  from  the 
fishers  and  choppers  and  ploughmen,  who,  far  away  on 
the  verge  of  the  wilderness,  were  trying  to  constitute  a 
state.  The  ministers  and  statesmen,  dealing  with  facts, 
instructed  as  to  precedents,  and  blind  to  the  underlying 
forces,  saw  in  the  revolt  of  the  American  Colonies  an  op 
portunity  to  cripple  England  and  thus  reduce  their  enemy 
and  rival.  They  saw  correctly  so  far  as  they  saw  at  all. 
France  sustained  the  colonies,  and  the  British  Empire  was 
broken.  But  they  did  not  see  what  lay  beyond  ;  they  did 
not  understand  that  they  were  paving  the  way  for  the 
overthrow  of  monarchies  other  than  that  which  ruled 
North  America  ;  nor  was  it  in  the  deeper  sense  due  to 
them  that  France  became  the  ally  of  the  United  States. 

They  were  borne  along  by  a  mightier  force  than  any 
thing  they  had  ever  known,  and  of  which  they  had  no  real 
conception.  The  King,  with  a  mental  capacity  sufficient 
only  for  a  good  locksmith,  had  a  dumb  animal  instinct  of 
race  which  made  him  dislike  the  whole  American  policy. 
He  received  Franklin  coldly,  almost  gruffly,  and  yielded 
reluctantly  to  his  Ministers.  Yet  he,  too,  was  driven 
along  by  a  force  as  irresistible  as  it  was  unseen,  which  fi 
nally  having  broken  all  bounds  swept  him  to  the  prison 
and  the  scaffold.  Louis's  royal  instinct  was  entirely  right 
so  far  as  he  was  concerned,  and  much  truer  than  the  judg 
ment  of  his  keen  and  well-instructed  Ministers.  Kings 
had  no  business  to  be  backing  up  revolted  colonists,  for 
the  cause  of  America  was  the  cause  of  the  people  against 
all  kings.  It  was  for  this  very  reason  that  it  appealed  not 


278          THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

only  to  the  intellect  of  France,  which  had  thrown  down 
the  old  beliefs  and  was  seeking  a  new  creed,  but  to  the 
French  people,  who  were  beginning  to  stir  blindly  and 
ominously  with  a  sense  of  their  wrongs  and  their  power. 
This  was  why  the  American  cry  for  aid  aroused  the  en 
thusiasm  and  the  sympathy  of  France.  The  democratic 
movement,  still  hidden  in  the  shadows  and  the  depths,  but 
none  the  less  beginning  to  move  and  live  in  France,  recog 
nized,  instinctively,  the  meaning  of  the  same  movement 
which  had  started  into  full  life  in  America  with  arms  in 
its  hand.  This  was  the  deep,  underlying  cause  of  the 
French  alliance  when  the  surrender  of  Burgoyne  said,  not 
merely  to  Ministers  intent  on  policy,  but  to  a  nation  with 
visions  in  its  brain,  here  is  an  armed  people,  not  only 
fighting  for  the  rights  of  man,  but  fighting  victoriously, 
and  bringing  to  wreck  and  extinction  a  King's  army  which 
had  been  sent  against  them. 


CHAPTER  XII 

FABIUS 

THE  intimate  connection  between  the  northern  cam 
paign  against  Burgoyne  and  that  conducted  at 
the  same  time  by  the  main  army,  under  Wash 
ington,  has  been  too  much  overlooked.  If  the  English 
army  in  the  south  had  been  able  or  ready  to  push  forward 
to  Albany  at  all  hazards,  nothing  could  have  stayed  the 
success  of  Burgoyne  and  the  consequent  control  by  the 
British  of  the  line  of  the  Hudson.  Lord  George  Ger 
main's  pigeon-holed  order  and  country  visits  counted  for 
something  in  delaying  any  British  movement  from  New 
York  ;  but  if  the  main  army  had  been  free  and  unchecked, 
not  even  tardy  orders  or  the  dulness  of  Howe  and  Clinton 
would  have  prevented  an  effective  advance  in  full  force  up 
the  Hudson  instead  of  the  abortive  raid  of  a  comparatively 
small  detachment.  The  reason  that  relief  did  not  reach 
Burgoyne  from  the  south  was  simply  that  the  British  army 
there  was  otherwise  engaged  and  could  not  come.  Wash 
ington  had  entire  confidence,  after  the  British  reached  Ti- 
conderoga,  that  the  whole  expedition  would  end  in  failure 
and  defeat.  He  was  confident,  because  he  understood  all 
the  conditions  thoroughly.  He  had  been  a  backwoods 
fighter  in  his  youth,  he  had  seen  Braddock  routed,  in  the 
midst  of  that  disaster  he  had  saved  the  remnants  of  the 

279 


V 


280  THE  STORY   OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

shattered,  panic-stricken  army,  and  he  knew  that  the  people 
of  New  England  and  New  York,  rising  in  defence  of  their 
homes,  and  backed  by  the  wilderness,  would  sooner  or  later 
destroy  any  regular  army  with  a  distant  base  and  long  com 
munications.  For  this  success  there  was  only  one  abso 
lutely  indispensable  condition :  no  army  from  the  south 
must  be  allowed  to  meet  the  invaders  from  the  north. 
That  they  should  not,  depended  on  him,  and  hence  his 
confidence  in  Schuyler's  measures  and  in  the  ultimate  de 
struction  of  Burgoyne.  Yet  the  task  before  him  was  a 
severe  one,  in  reality  far  graver  and  more  difficult  than 
that  wrought  out  so  bravely  and  well  by  the  people  of  the 
north. 

Washington,  in  the  first  and  chief  place,  had  no  wilder 
ness  as  an  ally.  He  was  facing  the  principal  English  army, 
better  equipped,  better  disciplined,  much  more  numerous 
than  his  own,  and  operating  in  a  settled  country  and  over 
good  roads.  Flis  enemy  controlled  the  sea,  and  a  seaport 
was  their  base  of  supplies.  They  therefore  had  no  long 
line  of  communications,  were  not  obliged,  and  could  not 
be  compelled,  to  live  off  the  country,  were  in  no  danger 
of  starvation,  and  were  quartered  in  towns  where  a  large 
proportion  of  the  inhabitants  were  loyal  to  the  crown. 
Washington's  problem  was  to  hold  the  main  British  army 
where  they  were  and  make  it  impossible  for  them  to  march 
north  while  the  season  permitted.  This  he  had  to  do  by 
sheer  force  of  his  own  skill  and  courage  with  a  half-formed, 
half-drilled  army,  an  inefficient  government  behind  him, 
and  meagre  and  most  uncertain  resources.  To  succeed, 
he  had  to  hold  his  army  together  at  all  hazards,  and 
keep  the  field,  so  that  the  British  would  never  dare  to 
march  north  and  leave  him  in  their  rear.  In  order  to  ac- 


FABIUS  281 

complish  this  result  he  would  have  to  fight  again  and  again, 
keep  the  enemy  in  check,  employ  them,  delay  them,  con 
sume  time,  and  no  matter  what  reverses  might  befall  him, 
never  suffer  a  defeat  to  become  a  rout,  or  permit  his  army 
to  break  and  lose  its  spirit.  The  story  of  the  campaign  of 
1777  on  the  northern  border  has  been  told.  The  way  in 
which  Washington  dealt  with  his  own  problem  and  faced 
his  difficulties  is  the  story  of  the  other  campaign  which 
went  on  all  through  that  same  spring  and  summer  in  the 
Middle  States,  and  upon  which  the  fate  of  Burgoyne  so 
largely  turned. 

After  his  victory  at  Princeton,  at  the  beginning  of  the 
year,  Washington  withdrew  to  Morristown,  and  there  re 
mained  in  winter  quarters  until  May.  His  militia,  as 
usual,  left  him  as  their  terms  of  enlistment  expired,  his 
army  at  times  was  reduced  almost  to  a  shadow,  but  still  he 
kept  his  ground  and  maintained  his  organization,  which 
was  the  one  great  problem  of  the  winter.  In  the  spring 
the  needed  levies  came  in,  and  Washington  at  once  took 
the  field  and  occupied  a  strong  position  at  Middlebrook. 
Howe  came  out  from  Brunswick,  looked  at  the  American 
position,  decided  that  it  was  too  strong  to  be  forced,  and 
withdrew  to  Amboy.  He  made  another  effort  when  he 
heard  the  American  army  was  at  Ouibbletown,  but  Wash 
ington  eluded  him,  and  Howe  then  passed  over  to  Staten 
Island  and  abandoned  New  Jersey  entirely. 

Washington  saw  so  plainly  what  the  British  ought  to 
do  that  he  supposed  Howe  would  surely  make  every  sacri 
fice  to  unite  with  Burgoyne  and  would  direct  all  his  ener 
gies  to  that  end.  He  therefore  expected  him  to  move  at 
once  up  the  Hudson,  and  accordingly  advanced  himself  to 
Ramapo,  so  that  he  might  be  within  striking  distance  of 


282  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

New  York  ;  for  he  was  determined  at  all  costs  to  prevent 
the  junction  with  Burgoyne,  which  he  knew  was  the  one 
vital  point  of  the  campaign.  For  six  weeks  he  remained 
in  ignorance  of  Howe's  intentions,  but  at  last,  on  July 
24th,  he  learned  that  Howe  had  sailed  with  the  bulk  of 
the  army,  and  that  the  entire  fleet  was  heading  to  the 
south.  Thereupon  he  marched  toward  Philadelphia,  but 
hearing  that  the  fleet  had  been  seen  off  the  capes  of  the 
Delaware  and  had  then  been  lost  sight  of,  he  concluded 
that  Howe  was  bound  for  Charleston,  and  made  up  his 
mind  to  return  to  New  York,  as  he  felt  that  the  troops 
still  there  would  certainly  be  used  to  reach  Burgoyne,  if 
the  American  army  on  any  pretext  could  be  drawn  away. 

He  had  not  entirely  fathomed,  however,  the  intelligence 
of  the  British  commanders.  That  which  was  clear  to  him 
as  the  one  thing  to  be  done,  had  not  occupied  Howe's  mind 
at  all.  He  was  not  thinking  of  Burgoyne,  did  not  under 
stand  the  overwhelming  importance  of  that  movement,  and 
had  planned  to  take  Philadelphia  from  the  south,  having 
failed  to  get  Washington  out  of  his  path  in  New  Jersey. 
So  when  he  sailed  he  was  making  for  Philadelphia,  an  im 
portant  town,  but  valueless  in  a  military  point  of  view  at 
that  particular  juncture.  Definite  news  that  the  British 
were  in  the  Chesapeake  reached  Washington  just  in  time 
to  prevent  his  return  to  New  York,  and  he  at  once  set  out 
to  meet  the  enemy.  His  task  at  last  was  clear  to  him. 
If  possible,  he  must  save  Philadelphia,  and  if  that  could 
not  be  done,  at  least  he  must  hold  Howe  there,  and  stop 
his  going  north  after  the  capture  of  the  city.  He  there 
fore  marched  rapidly  southward,  and  passed  through  Phila 
delphia,  to  try  to  encourage  by  his  presence  the  loyal,  and 
chill  the  disaffected  in  that  divided  town.  The  intention 


FABIUS 


283 


was  excellent,  but  it  is  to  be  feared  that  his  army  could 
not  have  made  a  very  gratifying  or  deep  impression.  The 
troops  were  ill-armed,  poorly  clothed,  and  so  nearly  des 
titute  of  uniforms,  that  the  soldiers  were  forced  to  wear 
sprigs  of  green  in  their  hats  in  order  to  give  themselves 


WASHINGTON'S   HEAD-QUARTERS,  NEAR    CHAD'S  FORD,  AT  THE    TIME  OF 
THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BRANDYIVINE. 

some  slight  appearance  of  identity  in  organization  and  pur 
pose.  Nevertheless,  poorly  as  they  looked,  their  spirit 
was  good  ;  they  meant  to  fight,  and  when  Washington 
halted  south  of  Wilmington,  he  sent  forward  Maxwell's 
corps  and  then  waited  the  coming  of  the  enemy. 

Howe  having-  lingered  six  weeks  in  New  York,  with  no 


284 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 


apparent  purpose,  had  consumed  another  precious  month 
in  his  voyage,  and  did  not  finally  land  his  men  until 
August  25th.  This  done,  he  advanced  slowly  along  the 
Elk,  and  it  was  September  3d  when  he  reached  Aitken's 
Tavern,  and  encountered  Maxwell,  who  was  driven  back 
after  a  sharp  skirmish.  Howe  pressed  on,  expecting  to 
take  the  Americans  at  a  disadvantage,  but  Washington 


LAFAYETTE'S  HEAD-QUARTERS, 
NEAR  CHAD'S  FORD,  DURING 
THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BRAN 
DY  WINE. 


slipped  away  from  him  and  took  a  strong  and  advantage 
ous  position  at  Chad's  Ford  on  the  Brandywine,  where 
he  determined  to  make  a  stand  and  risk  a  battle,  although 
he  had  only  11,000  effective  men,  and  Howe  had  brought 
18,000  from  New  York.  Possessing  the  advantage  of 
position,  he  had  a  chance  to  win,  and  he  meant  to  take 
every  chance.  With  the  main  army  he  held  Chad's  Ford ; 
the  lower  fords  were  held  by  the  Pennsylvania  militia  on 


FABIUS 


287 


the  left,  while  Sullivan,  in  command  of  the  right  wing,  was 
to  guard  those  above  the  main  army.  This  important 
work  Sullivan  failed  to  do,  or  did  imperfectly,  and  from 
this  failure  came  defeat.  On  the  nth,  Knyphausen,  with 
7,000  men,  came  to  Chad's  Ford  and  made  a  feint  of 


URMINGHAM 

MEETING-HOUSE 


BIRMINGHAM  MEETING-HOUSE,   NEAR    CHAD'S  FORD. 

Ola  Quaker  meeting-house  used  as  a  hospital  during  the  battle  of  the  Brandy-vine,  and  to  -which  Lafayette  was 

carried  -when  wounded. 

crossing.  Meantime,  Cornwallis  and  Howe,  with  an 
equally  strong  column,  marched  north,  and  then  swinging 
to  the  east  around  the  forks  of  the  Brandywine,  crossed  at 
the  unguarded  fords.  At  noon  Washington  heard  of 
Cornwallis's  movement,  and  with  quick  instinct  deter 
mined  to  fall  upon  Knyphausen  in  his  front  and  crush 
him.  He  had  indeed  begun  to  cross  the  stream,  when 


288  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

word  came  from  Sullivan  that  he  had  been  assured  by 
Major  Spear,  who  had  been  on  the  other  side  of  the  riv 
er,  that  Cornwallis  was  not  advancing,  as  reported.  This 
blundering  message  made  Washington  draw  back  his  men 
and  relinquish  his  attack  on  Knyphausen,  and  meantime 
the  battle  was  lost.  Sullivan,  indeed,  could  hardly  have 
sent  off  his  fatal  misinformation  before  the  British  were 
upon  him.  He  made  a  brave  stand,  but  he  was  outnum 
bered  and  outflanked,  and  his  division  was  routed.  Wash 
ington  hearing  firing,  made  rapidly  toward  the  right  wing, 
where,  meeting  the  fugitives,  he  ordered  Greene  forward, 
who  with  great  quickness  brought  up  his  division  and  sup 
ported  the  broken  right  wing,  so  that  they  were  able  to 
withdraw  to  a  narrow  defile,  where  they  made  good  their 
ground  until  nightfall.  At  Chad's  Ford,  Wayne  held 
Knyphausen  in  check  until  assured  of  the  disaster  to  the 
right  wing,  and  then  drew  off  in  good  order  and  joined 
the  main  army  at  Chester.  The  battle  had  been  lost 
through  obvious  faults  on  the  American  side,  although 
Washington's  dispositions  were  excellent.  If  he  had 
crossed  when  he  started  to  do  so,  and  fallen  upon  Knyp 
hausen  with  a  superior  force  at  that  point,  he  would  have 
won  his  fight,  even  if  Sullivan  had  been  crushed.  Every 
thing  in  fact  was  ruined  by  the  carelessness  which  caused 
Sullivan  to  leave  unguarded  the  fords,  of  which  he  did 
not  know,  but  of  which  he  should  have  known,  and  by 
the  blundering  message  which  prevented  Washington 
from  attacking  Knyphausen.  Nevertheless,  it  is  a  griev 
ous  error  in  war  to  be  misinformed,  and  it  shows  that  the 
scouting  was  poor  and  the  General  badly  served  by  his 
outposts.  These  grave  faults  came,  of  course,  from  the 
rawness  of  the  army  and  the  lack  of  proper  organization, 


FABIUS 


yet  it  must    be  admitted   that   even   in  an  army  recently 

levied,  such  misinformation  as   Sullivan  sent  to  Washino-. 

& 

ton  seems  unpardonable. 
Still,  despite  the  defeat, 
it  is  easy  to  perceive  a 
decided  improvement 
since  the  defeat  at  Long 
Island  for,  although  Sul 
livan's  men  showed  some 
unsteadiness,  the  army  as 
a  whole  behaved  well. 
The  American  loss  was 
over  a  thousand,  the  Brit 
ish  five  hundred  and  sev 
enty-nine,  but  there  was 
no  panic,  and  no  rout. 
Washington  had  his  army 
well  in  hand  that  night, 
marched  the  next  morn 
ing  from  Chester  to  Ger- 
mantown,  then  recrossed 
the  Schuylkill  at  Swedes' 
Fort  and  moving  in  a  westerly  direction  along  the  old  Lan 
caster  road  on  September  i6th  faced  Howe  near  West 
Chester,  ready  to  fight  again.  Skirmishing,  in  fact,  had  act 
ually  begun,  when  a  violent  storm  came  up  and  so  wet  the 
ammunition  on  both  sides  that  the  firing  ceased,  and  Wash 
ington  was  compelled  to  withdraw  for  fresh  supplies.  He 
left  Wayne  behind,  who  got  in  the  rear  of  the  British  ad 
vancing  along  the  west  bank  of  the  river  and  who  wrote 
Washington  that  a  terrible  mistake  had  been  made  in  re- 
crossing  the  Schuylkill,  as  a  fatal  blow  might  have  been 

VOL.  T.— 19 


BARON    KNVPHAUSEN,     COMMANDER 

THE  HESSIANS  IN  THE  WAR  BETWEEN 
ENGLAND  AND    THE   UNITED  STATES. 

From  a  drawing,  the  original  of  which  is  in  the  pos 
session  of  tJie  Knyphausen  family.  The  reproduction  is 
from  a  photograph  of  the  drawing,  owned  by  the  Historical 
Society  of  Pennsylvania. 


29o          THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

struck  if  he  had  only  remained.  Wayne  sent  this  opinion 
off,  supposing  that  the  British  were  ignorant  of  his  own 
position.  Unfortunately  they  were  not,  and  on  the  night 
of  the  2Oth,  General  Grey  surprised  him  in  his  camp  at 
Paoli,  where  the  Americans  lost  one  hundred  and  fifty 
men.  By  courage  and  presence  of  mind,  Wayne  escaped 
with  his  cannon  and  the  rest  of  his  men,  but  with  his 
division  much  broken  by  the  shock.  Coming  on  top  of 
the  defeat  at  the  Brandywine,  and  due  to  overconfidence 
and  also  again  to  lack  of  proper  information,  this  unfort 
unate  affair  was  not  inspiriting  to  the  general  tone  of  the 
army. 

Howe,  on  his  side,  after  disposing  of  W^ayne,  made  a 
feint  which  caused  Washington  to  march  up  the  river  to 
protect  his  stores  at  Reading,  and  then  turning,  went 
straight  on  to  Philadelphia.  He  reached  Germantown  on 
the  25th,  and  the  next  morning  Cornwallis  marched  into 
Philadelphia  with  3,000  men  and  took  possession  of  the 
town.  Congress,  or  whatever  was  left  of  it,  had  fled 
some  days  before  to  Lancaster,  but  the  townspeople  re 
mained.  Some  received  the  King's  soldiers  with  loud 
acclaim,  most  of  them  looked  on  in  sullen  silence,  while 
the  British  on  their  side  behaved  perfectly  well  and  mo 
lested  nobody.  Thus  Howe  smoothly  and  triumphantly 
had  achieved  his  purpose.  He  sent  word  to  his  brother  in 
command  of  the  fleet  that  the  city  was  won,  started  in- 
trenchrnents,  and  prepared  to  remove  the  obstructions  and 
forts  by  which  the  Americans  still  held  the  river.  All  in 
deed  had  gone  very  well.  The  rebels  had  been  beaten, 
some  of  their  detachments  surprised,  and  their  capital 
taken.  Howe  thought  the  business  was  about  over,  and, 
if  he  had  been  capable  of  the  mental  effort,  may  have 


FABIUS  291 

been  considering  a  quick  march  to  the  north  after  his  con 
quest  of  the  Middle  States  and  a  victorious  junction  with 
Burgoyne.  While  he  was  making  his  preparations  to 
clear  the  river,  he  kept  his  main  army  in  Germantown 
quietly  and  comfortably,  and  there  on  the  early  morning 
of  October  4th  he  suddenly  heard  firing,  and  riding  out, 
met  his  light  infantry  running.  He  expressed  his  surprise 
at  their  conduct,  and  then  rode  back  to  his  main  line,  for 
he  found  a  general  action  had  begun.  It  seemed  that  the 
beaten  rebels  did  not  understand  that  they  were  beaten, 
but  were  upon  him  again,  a  piece  of  audacity  for  which  he 
was  not  prepared.  Washington  in  fact  had  not  only  held 
his  army  together  after  defeat,  but  had  maintained  it  in 
such  good  trim  and  spirits  that,  although  inferior  in  num 
bers,  he  was  able  to  assume  the  aggressive  and  boldly 
engage  his  enemy  lying  in  nearly  full  force  at  German- 
town.  It  was  a  well-planned  attack  and  came  within  an 
ace  of  complete  success. 

Sullivan,  supported  by  Washington  with  the  reserves, 
was  to  make  the  main  attack  in  front.  The  Pennsylvania 
and  New  Jersey  militia  were  to  distract  the  enemy's  atten 
tion  by  demonstrations  on  the  flanks,  while  Greene,  taking 
a  wide  sweep  with  a  large  force,  was  to  come  up  from  the 
Limekiln  road  and  strike  the  right  \ving  of  the  British, 
forcing  them  back  toward  the  river.  Sullivan  waited  two 
hours  to  give  Greene  time  to  arrive,  and  then  advanced. 
At  first  all  went  \vell  ;  the  morning  was  misty  and  the 
British  were  surprised.  The  Americans  drove  the  enemy 
rapidly  and  in  confusion  before  them,  and  were  pressing  on 
to  the  centre  of  the  town  when  some  companies  of  Eng 
lish  soldiers  opened  fire  from  the  Chew  house,  a  large 
stone  building,  upon  the  reserves,  who  were  following 


292  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

Sullivan.  Very  unwisely  they  stopped  and  tried  to  take 
the  house,  and  then  endeavored  to  burn  it.  Both  attempts 
not  only  failed  but  wasted  time  and  lost  men.  They 
should  have  pushed  on,  leaving  a  small  body  to  watch  the 
house,  instead  of  slackening  as  they  did  the  momentum  of 


THE   CUEIV  HOUSE,    GERMANTOWN. 

the  first  rush.  Even  this  unlucky  delay,  however,  would 
not  have  been  fatal  if  the  attack  from  the  east,  which  was 
the  key  of  Washington's  plan,  had  succeeded.  Greene, 
however,  was  half  an  hour  late,  and  then  struck  the  enemy 
sooner  than  he  expected,  and  had  his  line  broken.  He 
nevertheless  reformed,  kept  on,  and  drove  the  British  back, 
but  reinforcements  coming  up,  he  was  forced  to  retreat. 
Worse  than  this,  one  of  his  divisions  going  astray  in  the 


FABIUS  295 

fog,  came  up  to  the  Chew  house  and  opened  fire.  There 
upon  Wayne  supposing  the  enemy  was  in  his  rear  drew 
off,  uncovering  Sullivan's  flank,  and  thus  forced  the  lat 
ter  to  retreat  also.  The  British  pursued,  but  were  finally 
stopped  by  Wayne's  battery  at  Whitemarsh.  The  Ameri 
can  attack  had  failed  and  the  army  had  been  repulsed. 
The  causes  of  the  defeat  were  the  difficulties  inseparable 
from  a  plan  requiring  several  detached  movements,  the 
confusion  caused  by  the  thick  mist,  and  the  consequent 
unsteadiness  of  the  new  troops.  The  fighting  was  sharp, 
and  the  Americans  lost  673  in  killed  and  wounded,  be 
sides  400  made  prisoners,  while  the  British  lost  in  killed 
and  wounded  only  521.  Nevertheless,  although  repulsed, 
Washington  had  not  fought  in  vain.  He  had  shown  his 
ability  to  assume  the  offensive  immediately  after  a  defeat, 
and  this  not  only  had  a  good  effect  at  home,  but  weighed 
very  greatly  with  Vergennes,  who  saw  the  meaning  of  a 
battle  under  such  circumstances  more  clearly  than  those 
actually  on  the  scene  of  action. 

Moreover,  Washington  had  brought  off  his  army  again 
in  good  spirits,  with  courage  and  confidence  restored,  and 
still  held  the  field  so  strongly  that  Howe,  despite  his  vic 
tories,  found  himself  practically  besieged,  with  provisions 
running  short.  He  could  not  move  by  land,  and  it  there 
fore  became  a  matter  of  life  and  death  to  open  the  Del 
aware  River  so  that  the  fleet  could  come  up  to  his  relief. 
Accordingly,  on  October  igth,  he  withdrew  from  Ger- 
mantown  to  Philadelphia,  forced  to  do  so  by  Washing 
ton's  operations  despite  the  repulse  of  the  Americans,  and 
turned  his  whole  attention  to  the  destruction  of  the  de 
fences  of  the  Delaware.  These  defences  consisted  of  two 
unfinished  works  :  Fort  Mifflin  on  an  island  in  the  Schuyl- 


296  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

kill,  and  Fort  Mercer  at  Red  Bank  in  New  Jersey.  Be 
tween  these  points  the  channel  was  blocked  and  the  block 
ade  defended  by  a  flotilla  of  small  boats  commanded  by 
Commodore  Hazlewood  and  by  some  larger  vessels  built  for 
Congress.  The  British  fleet  forced  the  obstructions  below 
and  came  nearly  up  to  Fort  MifHin  on  October  2ist.  The 
next  day  Count  Donop  with  2,500  Hessians  attacked  I^ort 
Mercer,  held  by  Colonel  Greene  with  600  men.  Their  first 
assault  was  repulsed  with  heavy  loss.  The  British  forces 
were  to  have  been  supported  by  the  fleet,  but  Hazlewood 
beat  off  the  vessels  sent  against  him,  and  drawing  in  near 
shore,  opened  on  the  flank  of  the  Hessians.  Donop  ral 
lied  his  men  and  led  them  again  and  again  to  the  attack, 
but  they  were  met  by  such  a  murderous  fire  that  they  gave 
way,  and  Donop  himself  was  mortally  wounded  and  made 
a  prisoner.  The  Hessians  lost  over  four  hundred  men, 
the  Americans  thirty-five.  Two  British  vessels  also  went 
aground,  were  attacked  by  the  Americans,  set  on  fire  and 
blown  up.  The  defence  was  admirably  conducted,  and 
the  whole  affair  was  one  of  the  best  fought  actions  of 
the  war. 

This  attempt  to  carry  the  American  redoubts  by  a 
simple  rush  had  thus  not  only  failed  but  had  resulted  in 
heavy  slaughter.  Even  Howe  saw  that  he  must  take 
more  deliberate  measures  to  attain  his  end.  He  accord 
ingly  erected  batteries  on  the  Pennsylvania  shore,  which 
reached  Fort  Mifflin  with  most  serious  effect.  Men-of- 
war  at  the  same  time  came  up  and  opened  fire  on  the 
other  side.  For  five  days  the  three  hundred  men  held 
out,  and  then,  most  of  their  officers  being  killed  or 
wounded,  their  ammunition  nearly  exhausted,  their  guns 
dismounted,  they  abandoned  the  heap  of  ruins  which  they 


THE  REPULSE  OF   THE   HESSIAXS    UXDER    COUXT  DOXOP  AT  FORT  MERCER. 

'top   rallied  his   men   and  led  them    ag-ai>>    and  again  to   the  attack,   hut    they  were    met   by   such    a    murderous  fir 
that  they  gave  way,  and  Donof  teas  mortally  'wounded. 


FABIUS  299 

had  defended  so  well,  and  on  the  night  of  November  i5th 
crossed  over  to  Red  Bank.  This  fort,  now  isolated,  was 
menaced  in  the  rear  by  Cornwallis,  and  before  General 
Greene  could  reach  it  with  relief,  the  garrison  were  ob 
liged  to  retreat  and  leave  its  empty  walls  to  be  destroyed. 
The  defence  of  these  two  posts  had  been  altogether  admi 
rable,  and  had  served  an  important  purpose  in  occupying 
the  British  General,  besides  costing  him,  all  told,  some  six 
hundred  men  and  two  vessels. 

Nevertheless,  Howe  was  at  last  in  possession  of  Phila 
delphia,  the  object  of  his  campaign,  and  with  his  com 
munications  by  water  open.  He  had  consumed  four 
months  in  this  business  since  he  left  New  York,  three 
months  since  he  landed  near  the  Elk  River.  His  prize, 
now  that  he  had  got  it,  was  worth  less  than  nothing  in  a 
military  point  of  view,  and  he  had  been  made  to  pay  a 
high  price  for  it,  not  merely  in  men,  but  in  precious  time, 
for  while  he  was  struggling  sluggishly  for  Philadelphia, 
Burgoyne,  who  really  meant  something  very  serious,  had 
gone  to  wreck  and  sunk  out  of  sight  in  the  northern  for 
ests.  Indeed,  Howe  did  not  even  hold  his  dearly  bought 
town  in  peace,  for  after  the  fall  of  the  forts,  Greene,  aided 
by  Lafayette,  who  had  joined  the  army  on  its  way  to  the 
Brandywine,  made  a  sharp  dash  and  broke  up  an  outly 
ing  party  of  Hessians.  Such  things  were  intolerable,  they 
interfered  with  personal  comfort,  and  they  emanated  from 
the  American  army  which  Washington  had  now  estab 
lished  in  strong  lines  at  Whitemarsh.  So  Howe  an 
nounced  that  in  order  to  have  a  quiet  winter,  he  would 
drive  Washington  beyond  the  mountains.  Howe  did  not 
often  display  military  intelligence,  but  that  he  was  pro 
foundly  right  in  this  particular  intention  must  be  admitted. 


300 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 


In  pursuit  of  his  plan,  therefore,  he  marched  out  of  Phila< 
delphia  on   December  4th,  drove   off  some   Pennsylvania 

militia  on  the  5th,  considered 
the  American  position  for 
four  days,  did  not  dare  to  at 
tack,  could  not  draw  his  op 
ponent  out,  returned  to  the 
city,  and  left  Washington  to 
go  into  winter  quarters  at 
Valley  Forge,  whence  he 
could  easily  strike  if  any 
move  was  made  by  the  Brit 
ish  army. 

Not  the  least  difficult  of 
Washington's  achievements 
was  this  same  refusal  to 
come  down  and  fight  Howe 
at  Whitemarsh.  He  had 
been  anxious  to  do  so  some 
time  before,  for  it  was  part 
of  his  nature  to  fight  hard  and  at  every  opportunity. 
Yet  when  Howe  marched  against  him  at  this  juncture  he 
refused,  and  the  strength  of  his  position  was  such  that  the 
British  felt  it  would  be  certain  defeat  to  attack.  The 
country,  with  its  head  turning  from  the  victory  over  Bur- 
goyne,  was  clamoring  for  another  battle.  Comparisons 
were  made  between  Washington  and  Gates,  grotesque 
as  such  an  idea  seems  now,  much  to  the  former's  disad 
vantage,  and  the  defeats  of  Brandy  wine  and  Germantown 
were  contrasted  bitterly  with  the  northern  victories.  Mur 
murs  could  be  heard  in  the  Congress,  which  had  been 
forced  to  fly  from  their  comfortable  quarters  by  the  arrival 


From   a 
for   IfashiHg 
Lexington,  V 


'.AFAYETTE. 


Noiv  owned  by  General  G.  IV.  C  Lee, 


FABIUS 


301 


of  the  victorious  enemy  in  Philadelphia.  John  Adams, 
one  of  the  ablest  and  most  patriotic  of  men,  but  with  a 
distinct  capacity  for  honest  envy,  discoursed  excitedly 
about  Washington's  failures  and  Gates's  successes.  He 
knew  nothing  of  military  affairs,  but  as  Sydney  Smith  said 
of  Lord  John  Russell,  he  would  have  been  ready  to  take 
command  of  the  Channel  Fleet  on  a  day's  notice,  and  so 


"OTTS    HOUSE    AT    VALLEY  FORGE    USED 
HEA  D-  Q  UA  R  TERS. 


he  decided  and  announced,  in  his  impetuous  way,  the  great 
ness  of  Gates,  whose  sole  merit  was  that  he  was  not  able 
to  prevent  Burgoyne's  defeat,  growled  at  the  General-in- 
Chief,  who  had  saved  the  Revolution,  and  sneered  at  him 
as  a  "  Fabius." 

Washington  knew  all  these  things.  He  heard  the 
clamors  from  the  country,  and  they  fell  in  with  his  own 
instincts  and  desires.  He  was  quite  aware  of  the  com- 


302  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

parisons  with  Gates  and  of  the  murmurings  and  criticism 
in  Congress.  Yet  he  went  his  way  unmoved.  He  weak 
ened  himself  to  help  the  northern  army,  for  he  understood, 
as  no  one  else  then  did,  the  crucial  character  of  Burgoyne's 
expedition.  When  the  news  of  the  surrender  at  Saratoga 
came  to  him,  his  one  word  was  devout  gratitude  for  the 
victory  he  had  expected.  But  no  comparisons,  no  sneers, 
no  rivalry  could  make  him  move  from  the  lines  at  White- 
marsh.  If  Howe  would  attack  him  where  victory  was 
certain,  well  and  good,  but  on  the  edge  of  winter  he  would 
take  no  risk  of  defeat.  He  must  hold  the  army  together 
and  keep  it  where  it  could  check  every  movement  of  the 
enemy.  The  conquerors  of  Burgoyne  might  disperse  to 
their  homes,  but  the  Continental  Army  must  always  be 
ready  and  in  the  field,  for  when  it  ceased  to  be  so,  the 
American  Revolution  was  at  an  end.  Hence  the  strong 
lines  at  Whitemarsh,  as  memorable  in  Washington's  ca 
reer  as  the  lines  of  Torres  Vedras  in  that  of  Wellington. 
Hence  the  refusal  to  fight  except  on  a  certainty,  a  great 
refusal,  as  hard  to  give  as  anything  Washington  ever  did. 
Hence,  finally,  the  failure  of  Howe  to  drive  his  enemy 
"beyond  the  mountains,"  and  his  retirement  to  Philadel 
phia  to  sleep  away  the  winter  while  the  American  Revolu 
tion  waited  by  his  side,  ready  to  strike  the  moment  he 
waked  and  stirred. 

Washington  had  thus  saved  his  army  from  the  peril  of 
defeat  without  lowering  their  spirit  by  retreating.  He 
had  stood  ready  to  fight  on  his  own  terms,  and  had  seen 
his  opponent  withdraw,  baffled,  to  the  city,  whence  it  was 
reasonably  certain  he  would  not  come  forth  again  until  a 
pleasanter  season.  So  much  was  accomplished,  but  a  still 
worse  task  remained.  He  had,  it  is  true,  his  army  in  good 


FABIUS 


303 


spirit  and  fair  numbers,  but  he  had  to  keep  it  through  a 
hard  winter,  where  it  would  hold  Howe  in  check,  and  to 
maintain  its  life  and  strength  without  resources  or  equip 
ment  and  with  an  inefficient  and  carping  Congress  for  his 
only  support. 

Valley   Forge   was  the   place  selected   for  the  winter 
camp.     From  a  military  stand-point  it  was  excellent,  being 


- 


VIEW   FROM  FORT  HUNTINGTON 

WITH  A    PLAN  OF  THE   INTRENCHMENTS  REMAIN- 
ING  AT   VALLEY  FORGE. 

The  Z'ie7v  is  from  Fort  Huntington  looking  toward  Fort  Washington,  which  lies  at  the  end  of  the  luhit 
road  in  the  cut  bet-ween  the  hills.  The  line  of  the  main  intrenchments  is  marked  by  the  trees  on  the  summit 
of  the  hill.  The  plan  is  made  to  correspond  with  the  view  regardless  of  the  points  of  the  compass,  north  being 
at  the  bottom  of  the  plan. 

both  central  and  easily  defended.  Critics  at  the  time 
found  fault  with  it  because  it  was  a  wilderness  with 
wooded  hills  darkening  the  valley  on  either  side.  The 
military  purpose,  however,  was  the  one  to  be  first  consid 
ered,  and  it  may  be  doubted  if  the  army  would  have  found 
any  better  quarters  elsewhere,  unless  they  had  cooped 
themselves  up  in  some  town  where  they  would  have  been 
either  too  distant  for  prompt  action  or  an  easy  mark  for 


304  THE  STORY   OF  THE   REVOLUTION 

attack.  But,  whether  due  to  military  expediency  or  not, 
the  story  of  Valley  Forge  is  an  epic  of  slow  suffering 
silently  borne,  of  patient  heroism,  and  of  a  very  bright  and 
triumphant  outcome,  when  the  gray  days,  the  long  nights, 
and  the  biting  frost  fled  together.  The  middle  of  Decem 
ber  in  the  North  American  woods  ;  no  shelter,  no  provi- 


do  acknowledge  the  UNITED  SATES  of  AME 
RICA  to  be  Free,  Independent  and  Sovereign  States,  and 
declare  that  the  people  thereof  owe  no  allegiance  or  obe 
dience  to  George  the  Third,  King  of  Great-Britain  ;  and  I 
renounce,  refufe  and  abjure  any  allegiance  or  obedience  to 
him  j  and  I  do  <^k/>CAx>—  that  I  will,  to  the  ut- 

moft  of  my  power,  fupport,  maintain  and  defend  the  faid 
United  States  againft  the  faid  King  George  the  Third,  his 
heirs  and  fucceflbrs,  and  his  or  their  abettors,  affiftants  and 
adherents^and  will  ferve  the  faid  United  States  in  the  office  of 
^sfaiJjer*-  (?4s»jLs*-tJL>  which  I  now  hold,  with 

fidelity,^ccorcMg  to  the  beft  of  my  fkill  and  underftanding. 


THE    OATH    OF  ALLEGIANCE    TO    THE    UNITED    STATES,    SIGNED    BY   BENE 
DICT  ARNOLD  AT   VALLEY  FORGE,  1778. 

sions,  no  preparations  ;  such  were  the  conditions  of  Val 
ley  Forge  when  the  American  army  first  came  there. 
Two  weeks  of  hard  work,  and  huts  were  built  and  ar 
ranged  in  streets  ;  this  heavy  labor  being  done  on  a  diet  of 
flour  mixed  with  water  and  baked  in  cakes,  writh  scarcely 
any  meat  or  bread.  At  night  the  men  huddled  around  the 
fires  to  keep  from  freezing.  Few  blankets,  few  coverings, 


FABIUS 


305 


many  soldiers  without  shoes,  "wading  naked  in  Decem 
ber's  snows" — such  were  the  attributes  of  Valley  Forge. 
By  the  new  year  the  huts  were 
done,  the  streets  laid  out,  and 
the  army  housed,  with  some 
three  thousand  men  unfit  for 
duty,  frostbitten,  sick,  and 
hungry.  They  had  shelter,  but 
that  was  about  all.  The  coun 
try  had  been  swept  so  bare  by 
the  passage  of  contending  ar 
mies  that  even  straw  to  lie 
upon  was  hard  to  get,  and  the 
cold,  uncovered  ground  often 
had  to  serve  for  a  sleeping- 
place.  Provisions  were  scarce, 
and  hunger  was  added  to  the 
pain  of  cold.  Sometimes  the 
soldiers  went  for  days  without 
meat — sometimes  without  any  food,  Lafayette  tells  us,  mar 
velling  at  the  endurance  and  courage  of  the  men.  There  is 
often  famine  in  the  camp,  writes  Hamilton,  a  man  not 
given  to  exaggeration.  "  Famine,"  a  gaunt,  ugly  fact, 
with  a  savage  reality  to  those  who  met  it,  and  looked  it 
in  the  eyes,  although  little  understood  by  excellent  gentle 
men  in  Congress  and  elsewhere.  Then  the  horses  had 
died  in  great  numbers,  and  in  consequence  transportation 
was  difficult,  enhancing  the  labor  of  hauling  firewood. 
Cold,  hunger,  nakedness,  unending  toil ;  it  is  a  singular 
proof  of  the  devotion  and  patriotism  of  the  American  sol 
dier  that  he  bore  all  these  sufferings  and  came  through 
them  loyally  and  victoriously.  We  are  told  that,  tried 

VOL.  I. — 20 


OLD   BELL     USED    IN    THE    CAMP 
AT   VALLEY  FORGE. 


306  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

sometimes  almost  beyond  the  power  of  endurance,  the 
men  were  more  than  once  on  the  verge  of  mutiny  and 
general  desertion.  But  neither  desertion  nor  mutiny 
came,  and  if  contemplated,  they  were  prevented  by  the 
influence  of  the  officers,  and  most  of  all  by  that  of  the 
chief  officer,  whose  patient  courage,  warm  sympathy,  and 
indomitable  spirit  inspired  all  the  army. 

And  what  was  the  Government,  what  was  Congress 
doing,  while  against  a  suffering  much  worse  than  many 
battles  their  army  was  thus  upholding  the  cause  of  the 
Revolution  ?  They  were  carping  and  fault-finding,  and 
while  leaders  like  Samuel  and  John  Adams  and  Richard 
Henry  Lee  criticised,  lesser  men  rebelled  and  plotted 
against  the  Commander-in-Chief.  Mr.  Clark,  of  New 
Jersey,  thought  Washington  threatened  popular  rights  be 
cause  he  was  obliged  to  take  strong  measures  to  feed  his 
army,  and  because  he  insisted  that  the  people  in  the  Mid 
dle  States  should  take  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  United 
States,  after  tampering  with  the  British  amnesty,  so  that 
by  this  proper  test  he  might  know  friend  from  foe.  Mr. 
Clark  forgot  that  with  a  Congress  which  Gouverneur 
Morris  said  had  depreciated  as  much  as  the  currency,  it 
was  necessary  for  the  most  constitutional  Fabius  to  be  dic 
tator  as  well  as  "  Cunctator."  Then  James  Lovell  and 
others  thought  it  would  be  well  to  supplant  Washington 
with  the  alleged  conqueror  of  Burgoyne,  and  Gates,  slow 
and  ineffective  in  battle,  but  sufficiently  active  in  looking 
after  his  own  advancement,  thought  so  too,  and  willingly 
lent  himself  to  their  schemes. 

This  party  in  Congress  found  some  allies  in  the  army. 
One  of  the  evils  which  Washington  had  to  meet,  and  in 
regard  to  which  he  was  obliged  to  oppose  Congress  and  to 


WINTER  AT  VALLEY  FORGE. 

The  relief. 


FABIUS  309 

do  some  pretty  plain  speaking,  related  to  the  foreign  vol 
unteers.  Some  of  them  were  men  like  Lafayette,  brave, 
loyal,  capable,  and  full  of  a  generous  enthusiasm,  or  like 
De  Kalb  and  Pulaski,  good  active  soldiers,  or  like  Steu- 
ben,  officers  of  the  highest  training  and  capacity.  To  such 
men  Washington  gave  not  only  encouragement,  but  his 
confidence  and  affection.  Most  of  those,  however,  who 
flocked  to  America  were  what  Washington  bluntly  called 
them,  "  hungry  adventurers,"  soldiers  out  of  work,  who 
came  not  from  love  of  the  cause,  but  for  what  they  could 
get  in  personal  profit  from  the  war.  Deane  had  already 
been  lavish  with  commissions  to  these  people,  and  Con 
gress,  in  the  true  colonial  spirit,  proceeded  to  shower 
rank  upon  them  merely  because  they  were  foreigners, 
without  regard  either  to  merit  or  to  the  effect  of  their 
action.  Already  there  had  been  serious  trouble  from  the 
manner  in  which  Congress  had  appointed  and  promoted 
native  officers  without  reference  to  the  wishes  of  the  Com- 
mander-in-Chief  or  to  the  military  situation,  which  they 
comprehended  very  imperfectly.  But  their  policy  in 
regard  to  foreigners  was  much  worse,  and  meant  the 
utter  demoralization  both  of  organization  and  discipline. 
Washington,  who  was  not  colonial  in  the  slightest  degree, 
simply  because  he  was  too  great  a  man  to  be  so,  and  who 
judged  foreigners  as  he  did  all  men,  solely  upon  their  mer 
its,  at  once  saw  the  mischief  of  the  Congressional  practice, 
interposed,  checked,  and  stopped  it.  As  a  consequence, 
much  hostility  arose  among  the  "  hungry  adventurers"  and 
their  friends  and  admirers  ;  so  they  all  joined  together  in 
their  envy  of  the  General,  and  began  to  weave  a  plot 
against  him.  The  leader  of  the  movement  was  an  Irish 
adventurer  named  Conway,  who  is  remembered  in  history 


3io          THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

solely  by  this  intrigue  against  Washington.  He  desired 
to  be  made  a  major-general  at  once.  Washington  ob 
jected  on  grounds  both  general  and  particular,  and  said 
that  "  Conway's  merit  and  importance  existed  more  in  his 
own  imagination  than  in  reality."  Con  way  was  rendered 
furious  by  this  plain-spoken  opposition,  and  set  himself  to 
work  to  secure  both  revenge  and  the  gratification  of  his 
own  ambition.  He  turned  to  Gates  as  a  leader,  and  one 
of  his  letters  in  which  he  spoke  of  a  "weak  general  and 
bad  counsellors"  came  to  the  knowledge  of  the  Com- 
mander-in-Chief.  This  was  absolute  insubordination,  and 
Washington  wrote  a  curt  note  to  Conway,  who  tried  to 
apologize  and  then  resigned,  and  also  communicated  with 
Gates,  who  passed  several  months  in  trying  to  twist  out  of 
his  uncomfortable  position  while  Washington  held  him 
relentlessly  to  the  point.  This  exposure  only  added  fuel 
to  Conway's  anger,  and  the  intrigue  to  get  control  of 
military  affairs  went  on.  The  Conway  party  was  strong 
in  Congress,  where  they  succeeded  in  having  the  Board  of 
War  enlarged,  with  Gates  at  the  head  of  it,  and  Thomas 
MifHin,  another  opponent  of  Washington,  a  member. 
This  Board  appointed  Conway  Inspector-General  with  the 
rank  of  Major-General,  a  direct  blow  at  Washington,  and 
Gates  set  himself  to  hampering  the  movements  of  the 
Commander-in-Chief  by  refusing  men,  and  offering  to  him 
petty  slights  and  affronts.  They  hoped  in  this  way  to 
drive  Washington  to  resign,  but  they  little  knew  their 
man.  He  had  entered  on  the  great  struggle  to  win,  and 
neither  reverses  in  the  field  nor  intrigues  in  Congress  could 
swerve  him  from  his  course.  He  stood  his  ground  with 
out  yielding  a  jot,  he  pursued  Gates  about  the  letter 
from  Conway  which  had  exposed  the  purposes  of  their 


FABIUS  311 

faction,  and  kept  him  writhing  and  turning  all  winter. 
He  also  received  Conway  with  utter  coldness  and  indiffer 
ence  when  he  visited  the  camp,  which  was  very  galling  to 
a  gentleman  who  considered  himself  not  only  important 
but  dangerous.  The  plotters  in  short  could  make  no  im 
pression  upon  Washington,  and  even  while  they  plotted 
against  him,  their  schemes  went  to  pieces,  for  they  were 
not  strong  enough  in  ability  or  character  to  be  really  for 
midable.  They  failed  in  their  plan  for  an  invasion  of 
Canada,  and,  what  was  far  worse,  they  broke  down  utterly 
in  the  commissariat ;  so  that,  although  they  could  neither 
frighten  nor  move  Washington,  they  succeeded  in  starving 
his  soldiers  and  adding  to  their  sufferings,  something 
which  he  felt  far  more  keenly  than  any  attacks  upon  him 
self.  The  failures  of  the  cabal,  however,  could  not  be  con 
cealed  but  soon  became  apparent  to  all  men,  even  to  a 
committee  of  Congress  when  they  visited  Valley  Forge. 
Such  confidence  as  had  ever  been  given  to  the  new  Board 
of  War  vanished,  the  members  fell  to  quarrelling  among 
themselves  and  telling  tales  on  each  other,  and  the  in 
triguers  and  their  party  went  to  pieces.  As  spring  drew 
near,  the  end  of  the  "  Conway  cabal  "  came.  Wilkinson 
resigned  the  secretaryship  of  the  Board,  MifHin  was  put 
under  Washington's  orders,  Gates  was  sent  to  his  com 
mand  in  the  north,  and  Conway,  resigning  in  a  pet,  found 
his  resignation  suddenly  accepted.  He  then  fought  a  duel 
with  General  Cadwalader,  a  friend  of  the  Commander-in- 
Chief,  was  badly  wounded,  wrote  a  contrite  note  to  Wash 
ington,  recovered  and  left  the  country.  The  cabal  was 
over  and  its  author  gone.  Washington  had  withstood  the 
attack  of  envy  and  intrigue,  and  triumphed  completely 
without  the  slightest  loss  of  dignity.  It  must  have  been  a 


3I2 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 


trying  and  harsh  experience,  and  yet  there  were  other 
things  happening  at  that  very  time  which  he  felt  far  more. 

He  looked  upon 
his  suffering  men  and 

I  knew    that     at    that 

moment,  in  Philadel 
phia,  the  enemy  were 
warmly  housed  and 
amply  fed,  amusing 
themselves  with  balls, 
dances,  and  theatrical 
performances.  T  h  e 
bitter  contrast 
touched  him  to  the 
quick.  Yet  even  then 
the  Legislature  of 
Pennsylvania  thought 
that  he  did  too  much 
for  his  army  by  hut 
ting  them  in  Valley 
Forge,  and  that  they 
should  keep  the  open 

HOUSE     IN     ARCH    STREET,    PHILADELPHIA,  fi-lH     liv^  in  fpritQ    qriH 

WHERE    BETSY    ROSS    MADE     THE     FIRST  nCl(1»  11VC  ™  tCnl^  ailCl 

AMERICAN     FLAG     FROM     THE     DESIGN  frv  fo    attack    the   6116- 
ADOPTED  BY  CONGRESS. 

my.    This  thoughtful 

criticism  was  too  much  even  for  Washington's  iron  self- 
control.  He  wrote  a  very  plain  letter,  setting  forth  bluntly 
the  shortcomings  of  the  Pennsylvanians  in  supporting  the 
army  with  troops  and  supplies,  and  then  added : 

"  I  can  assure  those  gentlemen  that  it  is  a  much  easier 
and  less  distressing  thing  to  draw  remonstrances  in  a  com 
fortable  room  by  a  good  fireside,  than  to  occupy  a  cold, 


FABIUS  313 

bleak  hill,  and  sleep  under  frost  and  snow,  without  clothes 
or  blankets.  However,  although  they  seem  to  have  little 
feeling  for  the  naked  and  distressed  soldiers,  I  feel  super 
abundantly  for  them,  and  from  my  soul  I  pity  their  miser 
ies,  which  it  is  neither  in  my  power  to  relieve  nor  pre 
vent." 

So  we  get  the  picture.  There  are  the  British,  snug, 
comfortable,  and  entertaining  themselves  in  Philadelphia. 
There  are  the  members  of  Congress  and  foreign  advent 
urers  intriguing  and  caballing  for  military  control,  with 
Pennsylvania  legislators  in  the  background  growling  be 
cause  the  army  is  not  camping  out  in  the  open  and  march 
ing  up  and  down  in  the  wintry  fields.  All  around  there 
are  much  criticism  and  grumbling  and  wounding  compari 
sons  with  the  exploits  of  the  northern  army.  And  there, 
out  in  Valley  Forge  and  along  the  bleak  hillsides,  is  the 
American  Continental  army.  All  that  there  is  existent 
and  militant  of  the  American  Revolution  is  there,  too, 
just  as  it  was  during  the  previous  winter.  In  the  midst  is 
a  great  man  who  knows  the  grim  facts,  who  understands 
just  what  is  meant  by  himself  and  the  men  who  follow 
him,  and  whose  purpose,  the  one  thing  just  then  worth 
doing  in  the  world,  is  to  keep,  as  he  says,  "life  and  soul  " 
in  his  army.  He  is  a  man  to  whom  courage  and  loyalty 
appeal  very  strongly,  and  it  wrings  his  heart  to  watch  his 
brave  and  loyal  men  suffer ;  yes,  wrings  his  heart  in  a  way 
that  well-meaning  gentlemen  in  Congress  and  legislative 
assemblies,  self-seeking  adventurers  and  petty  rivals  can 
not  understand.  It  makes  his  resentment  against  injus 
tice  stronger,  and  his  determination  to  win  sterner  and 
more  unyielding  even  than  before. 

We  see  in  imagination,  but  Washington  saw  face  to 


314  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

face,  his  soldiers  huddling  around  the  fires  at  night  while 
the  huts  were  building.  He  saw  them  hungry,  half- 
dressed,  frost-bitten,  hatless,  shoeless,  struggling  to  get  a 
shelter.  Then  the  huts  were  built,  and  still  he  was  strug 
gling  to  get  them  clothes  and  food  and  blankets,  as  well 
as  medicine  for  the  3,000  sick.  He  levied  on  the  country  ; 
he  did  not  stop  for  trifles ;  he  meant  that,  come  what 
might,  he  would  keep  his  men  alive,  and  in  some  fashion 
they  lived.  With  March,  Greene  became  Quartermaster- 
General,  and  then  the  clothing  and  the  food  came,  too. 
The  weather  began  to  soften  and  the  days  to  lengthen. 
The  worst  had  been  passed,  and  yet,  through  all  that  dark 
ness  and  cold,  more  had  been  done  than  keep  "  life  and 
soul "  in  the  troops,  marvellous  as  that  feat  was.  In  their 
huts  on  the  bleak  hillsides,  upon  the  trampled  snow  of  the 
camp-streets,  Washington  had  not  only  held  his  men 
together,  but  he  had  finally  made  his  army.  Excellent 
fighting  material  he  had  always  had,  and  he  had  been 
forming  it  fast  under  the  strain  of  marches,  retreats,  and 
battles.  But  still  it  lacked  the  organization  and  drill 
which  were  possessed  by  the  enemy.  These  last  Washing 
ton  gave  it  under  all  the  miseries  and  sufferings  of  Valley 
Forge.  Good  fortune  had  brought  him  a  man  fit  for  this 
work  above  almost  any  other  in  the  person  of  Baron  Steu- 
ben,  a  Prussian  soldier,  a  distinguished  officer  of  the  Seven 
Years'  War,  trained  in  the  school  of  Frederick,  the  most 
brilliant  commander  of  the  time.  A  man  who  had  fol 
lowed  the  great  King  when  he  had  faced  all  Europe  in 
arms  against  him,  knew  what  fighting  was  and  what  disci 
pline  could  do.  All  he  needed  was  good  material,  and  that 
he  found  at  Valley  Forge.  So  Washington  brought  his 
army  out  of  this  awful  winter  not  only  with  "  life  and 


FABIUS 


31$ 


soul  "  in  them,  but  better  equipped,  thanks  to  Greene  and 
the  French  loans,  than  ever  before,  increasing  in  numbers, 
owing  to  the  new  levies 
which  came  in,  and  drilled 
and  organized  in  the  fash 
ion  of  the  King  of  Prussia. 
Early  in  May  came  the  news 
of  the  French  alliance,  which 
was  celebrated  in  the  Ameri 
can  camp  with  salvoes  of  can 
non  and  musketry,  and  with 
the  cheers  of  the  troops  for 
the  King  of  France  and  for 
the  United  States  of  Amer 
ica.  This  event,  so  anxiously 
awaited,  cheered  and  en 
couraged  everyone,  and  with 
his  army  thus  inspirited,  disciplined,  and  strengthened, 
Washington  took  the  field  and  assumed  the  offensive. 

Meantime  the  British  lingered  in  Philadelphia.  As 
Franklin  truly  said,  Philadelphia  took  them,  not  they  the 
city  ;  but  this  fact,  clear  at  the  outset  to  Franklin  and 
Washington,  was  not  obvious  to  others  for  some  time. 
At  last  glimmerings  of  the  truth  penetrated  the  mists 
which  overhung  the  British  Ministry.  They  vaguely  per 
ceived  that  Howe  had  consumed  a  great  deal  of  time  and 
lost  a  great  many  men,  while  all  that  he  had  to  show  for 
these  expenditures  were  comfortable  winter  quarters  in 
Philadelphia,  where  he  did  nothing,  and  where  Washington 
watched  him  and  held  him  cooped  up  by  land.  So  the 
Ministry  decided  to  recall  Howe  and  give  the  command 
to  Clinton,  an  entirely  unimportant  change,  so  far  as  the 


BARO.V  STEUBEX. 
Painted  by  C.  IV.  Peale,  in  /;( 


316          THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

merits  of  the  two  men  were  concerned.  It  seemed,  how 
ever,  a  very  serious  matter  to  the  British  in  Philadelphia, 
and  a  pageant  called  the  Mischianza  was  held  in  Howe's 
honor  on  May  i8th.  There  was  a  procession  of  boats 
and  galleys  on  the  river,  moving  to  the  music  of  hautboys, 
between  the  lines  of  the  men-of-war  dressed  in  bunting, 
and  firing  salutes.  Then  followed  a  regatta,  and  after 
that  a  mock  tournament,  where  "  Knights  of  the  Burning 
Mountain  "  and  of  the  "  Blended  Rose  "  contended  for 
the  favor  of  a  Queen  of  Beauty.  In  the  evening  there 
were  fireworks,  a  ball,  and  a  gaming-table  with  a  bank  of 
two  thousand  guineas  ;  all  in  honor  of  the  General,  whom 
the  tickets  described  as  the  setting  sun,  destined  to  rise 
again  in  greater  splendor.  Stimulated  by  this  pasteboard 
radiance  and  blaze  of  millinery,  Howe  waited  for  a  last 
touch  of  glory,  which  was  to  come  by  surprising  Lafay 
ette,  whom  Washington  had  sent  forward  to  observe  the 
enemy  at  Barren  Hill.  The  attempt  was  well  planned, 
but  the  young  Frenchman  was  alert  and  quick,  and  he 
slipped  through  his  enemy's  fingers  unscathed.  It  being 
now  apparent  that  the  time  for  rising  in  greater  glory  had 
not  quite  arrived,  Howe  shortly  after  took  himself  off,  out 
of  history  and  out  of  America,  where  Clinton  reigned  in 
his  stead. 

The  change  of  commanders  made  no  change  of  habits. 
Clinton  tarried  and  delayed,  as  Howe  had  done  before 
him.  It  was  obvious  that  he  must  get  to  New  York, 
for  he  was  isolated  where  he  was,  and  the  French  alliance 
would  soon  produce  fleets,  as  well  as  fresh  troops.  Yet 
still  he  lingered.  The  Peace  Commission,  with  Lord  Car- 
lisle  at  its  head,  was  one  fruitful  cause  of  hesitation  and 
delay,  but  like  every  conciliatory  movement  made  by  Eng- 


FABIUS 


317 


land,  this  also  was  too  late. 
The  concessions  which  would 
have  been  hailed  with  rejoic 
ing  at  the  beginning,  and  ac 
cepted  even  after  war  had 
been  begun,  were  now  utter 
ly  meaningless.  Washington 
was  determined  to  have  in 
dependence  ;  he  would  not 
sheath  his  sword  for  less,  and 
he  represented  now  as  ever 
the  sentiment  of  Americans. 
The  only  peace  possible  was 
in  independence.  The  col 
onies  were  lost  to  England, 
and  the  sole  remaining  ques 
tion  was,  how  soon  she  could 
be  forced  to  admit  it.  So 
the  Peace  Commission  broke 
down,  and  not  having  been 
consulted  about  the  evacua 
tion  of  Philadelphia,  and  hav 
ing  failed  conspicuously  and 
rather  mortifyingly  in  their 
undertaking,  retired  in  some 
dudgeon  to  England,  to  add 
their  contribution  to  the  dis 
approval  and  disaffection  fast 
thickening  about  the  King's 
friends  who  composed  the 
Ministry. 

Clinton,    for    his    part, 


3i8  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

gradually  got  ready  to  carry  out  his  orders  and  leave 
Philadelphia.  Having  made  all  his  arrangements,  he 
slipped  away  on  June  i8th,  so  quietly  that  the  disheart 
ened  and  deserted  loyalists  of  Philadelphia  hardly  real 
ized  that  their  protectors  had  gone.  Washington,  how 
ever,  knew  of  it  at  once.  He  had  made  up  his  mind 
that  Clinton  would  try  to  cross  New  Jersey,  and  he  meant 
to  attack,  although  he  was  still  inferior  in  numbers  ;  for 
the  British,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  they  had  been 
weakened  both  by  desertions  during  the  winter  and  by 
losses  in  battle  during  the  previous  autumn,  appear  still  to 
have  had  17,000  men  against  13,000  Americans.  Despite 
this  disparity  of  force,  Washington  had  entire  confidence 
in  the  instrument  which  he  had  been  fashioning  at  Valley 
Forge,  and  he  meant  to  use  it.  General  Lee,  who,  un 
fortunately,  had  been  exchanged  and  was  now  again  in  the 
American  camp,  had  but  one  firm  conviction,  which  was, 
that  the  British  army  was  invincible,  and  that  our  policy 
was  simply  to  keep  out  of  its  way.  He  argued  that  the 
British  would  never  yield  Pennsylvania,  and  that  they 
were  in  fact  intending  to  do  everything  but  what  they 
really  aimed  at,  a  speedy  march  to  New  York.  Washing 
ton  quietly  disregarded  these  opinions,  and  as  soon  as  the 
British  left  Philadelphia,  broke  camp  and  moved  rapidly 
after  them.  At  Hopewell  a  council  of  war  was  held,  and 
Lee  now  urged  building  bridges  of  gold  for  the  enemy 
and  aiding  them  to  get  to  New  York.  A  majority  of  the 
council,  whom  Alexander  Hamilton  scornfully  called  "old 
midwives,"  still  under  the  spell  of  an  "  English  officer," 
sustained  Lee.  But  Washington  had  passed  beyond  the 
time  when  he  would  yield  to  councils  of  war  which  stood 
in  the  way  of  fighting,  and  supported  by  active  men  like 


FABIUS  319 

Greene,  Wayne,  and  Lafayette,  he  firmly  persisted  in  his 
plans.  He  detached  Wayne  and  Poor  with  their  forces 
to  join  Maxwell  and  the  New  Jersey  militia,  who  were  to 
engage  the  enemy,  while  he  brought  up  the  main  army. 
Lee,  entitled  to  the  command  of  this  advanced  division, 
first  refused  to  take  it,  and  then  changed  his  mind  most 
unluckily,  and  displaced  Lafayette,  to  whom  the  duty  had 
been  assigned  when  Lee  declined. 

Meantime,  Clinton,  much  harassed  by  the  New  Jersey 
militia,  and  with  his  men  suffering  from  heat  and  thirst, 
and  dropping  out  of  the  ranks,  was  slowly  making  his  way 
north.  At  Crosswicks,  which  he  reached  just  in  time  to 
save  the  bridge,  he  found  Washington  on  his  flank.  To 
escape,  he  had  to  take  a  quicker  route  ;  so  sending  ahead 
his  baggage-train,  which  was  from  eight  to  twelve  miles 
long,  he  swung  toward  Freehold,  making  for  the  Never- 
sink  Hills  and  the  coast.  On  the  26th  he  encamped  at 
Monmouth  Court-House,  while  his  left  was  still  at  Free 
hold.  The  American  army  was  now  only  eight  miles 
distant,  and  the  advance  under  Lee  but  five  miles  away. 
Washington  sent  orders  to  Lee  to  attack  the  next  day,  as 
soon  as  the  British  resumed  their  march  ;  but  Lee  made 
no  plan,  and  the  next  morning  did  nothing  until  the  mili 
tia  actually  opened  fire  on  Knyphausen's  rear-guard,  who 
turned  to  meet  them.  As  the  militia  retired  they  met 
Lee,  who  engaged  the  enemy  and  then  began  to  fall  back 
and  move  his  troops  about  here  and  there  with  the  intel 
ligent  idea  of  cutting  off  isolated  parties  of  the  enemy, 
an  unusual  way  of  beginning  a  general  action.  His  men 
were  ready  and  eager  to  fight ;  but  they  became  confused 
by  Lee's  performances,  lost  heart,  and  finally  began  to 
retreat,  while  Clinton,  seeing  his  advantage,  pushed  for- 


320  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

ward  reinforcements.  Washington,  hearing  that  Dicker 
son  and  his  New  Jersey  militia  were  engaged,  sent  word 
to  Lee  to  attack  and  that  he  would  support  him.  He  was 
pressing  on  with  the  main  army,  the  men  throwing  away 
their  knapsacks  and  hurrying  forward  through  the  intense 
heat,  when  word  came  to  him  that  Lee  was  retreating. 
He  would  not  believe  it.  He  could  not  conceive  that 
any  officer  should  retreat  as  soon  as  the  enemy  advanced, 
and  when  he  knew  that  the  main  army  was  hastening  for 
ward  to  his  support.  Filled  with  surprise  and  anger,  he 
set  spurs  to  his  horse  and  galloped  to  the  front.  First  he 
met  stragglers,  then  more  and  more  flying  men,  then  the 
division  in  full  retreat.  At  last  he  saw  Lee,  and  riding 
straight  at  him,  asked,  with  a  fierce  oath,  as  tradition  says, 
what  he  meant  by  retreating.  Self-control  was  gone,  and 
just  wrath  broke  out  in  a  storm.  The  dangerous  fight 
ing  temper,  so  firmly  kept  in  hand,  was  loose.  Lee,  im 
pudent  and  clever  as  he  was,  quailed  and  stammered. 
The  question  was  repeated.  There  was  and  could  be  no 
answer.  Lee  went  to  the  rear,  to  a  court-martial,  and  to 
private  life,  sinking  out  of  history,  not  without  a  strong 
suspicion  of  treason  clinging  to  him,  to  join  Conway  and 
the  rest  of  the  unenviable  company  of  adventurers  who 
wanted  to  free  America  by  obtaining  high  rank  for  them 
selves  and  admiring  the  enemy. 

This  particular  scene  was  soon  over  and  the  real  work 
then  began.  The  master  had  come  at  last.  Like  Sheridan 
at  Cedar  Creek,  the  retreating  men  rallied  and  followed 
the  Commander-in-Chief.  The  broken  division  was  re 
formed  in  a  strong  position,  the  main  army  was  brought 
up,  the  British  were  repulsed,  and  Washington,  resuming 
the  offensive  drove  the  enemy  before  him  and  occupied 


FABIUS  323 

the  battle-ground  of  the  morning.  Then  night  fell,  and 
under  cover  of  darkness  Clinton  retreated  as  fast  as  he 
could,  dropping  men  as  he  went,  and  finally  reaching  his 
fleet  and  New  York  before  the  Americans  could  again 
come  up  with  him. 

Contrast  this  fight  with  Long  Island,  and  it  can  be 
seen  how  an  American  army  had  been  made  in  the  inter 
val.  Thrown  into  disorder  and  weakened  by  the  timid 
blundering  of  their  General,  the  advance  division  had  been 
entirely  rallied,  the  main  army  had  come  up,  the  battle 
had  been  saved,  and  a  victory  won.  Had  it  not  been  for 
Lee,  it  would  have  been  a  much  more  decisive  victory, 
and  Clinton's  army  would  have  been  practically  destroyed. 
As  it  was,  he  lost  some  500  men  at  Monmouth  to  the  229 
of  the  Americans.  Along  his  whole  retreat  he  lost  nearly 
2,000.  "  Clinton  gained  no  advantage,"  said  the  great 
soldier  at  Sans  Souci  watching  events,  "  except  to  reach 
New  York  with  the  wreck  of  his  army." 

Washington  was  victor  at  Monmouth,  and  had  lost 
Brandywine  and  Germantown,  but  he  had  won  the  cam 
paign.  The  British  had  been  driven  from  the  Middle 
States  as  they  had  been  expelled  from  New  England,  for 
they  held  nothing  now  but  the  port  of  New  York,  which 
was  actually  covered  by  the  guns  of  their  fleet.  They  had 
tried  to  reach  Philadelphia  from  the  north,  and  had  been 
baffled  and  forced  back  by  Trenton  and  Princeton.  They 
had  approached  and  occupied  it  from  the  south,  but  it  was 
worthless  and  a  source  of  weakness  unless  they  could 
establish  a  line  to  New  York  which  would  enable  them 
to  control  both  cities  and  the  intervening  country.  This 
Washington  had  prevented  by  holding  Howe  fast  in  Phila 
delphia  and  checking  any  movement  by  land.  When 


324  THE  STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

spring  came  it  was  evident  that  to  attempt  to  hold  both 
cities,  isolated  as  they  were,  required  two  armies,  and  under 
existing  conditions  was  a  source  of  weakness  which  threat- 

o 

ened  a  great  disaster.  Clinton  had  no  choice  but  to  re 
treat  ;  he  lost  a  battle  and  2,000  men  in  doing  so,  and 
reached  New  York  with  a  beaten  and  broken  army.  New 
York  he  continued  to  hold,  Newport  he  held  for  a  time, 
and  that  was  all.  There  were  some  affairs  of  outposts, 
some  raids  here  and  there,  some  abortive  invasions,  but 
the  Middle  States  had  gone  as  New  England  had  gone 
from  the  British,  swept  clear  by  Washington's  campaigns. 

As  the  evacuation  of  Boston  closed  the  British  cam 
paign  for  the  control  of  New  England,  so  the  battle  of 
Monmouth  ended  all  effective  military  operations  to  re 
cover  English  supremacy  in  the  Middle  States.  The  vic 
tory  at  Monmouth  also  marks  the  beginning  of  the  best 
work  of  the  American  army,  finally  made  such  by  hard 
righting  and  by  the  discipline  and  drill  of  Valley  Forge. 
Never  again  did  the  Continental  Army  under  Washington 
suffer  defeat.  From  the  victory  at  Monmouth,  the  last 
general  engagement  in  the  north,  to  the  surrender  of  York- 
town,  the  army  of  Washington  endured  much,  but  they 
were  never  beaten  in  action  when  he  led  them.  This  was 
the  result  of  two  years  of  victory  and  defeat,  of  Trenton, 
and  of  Germantown,  of  steady  fighting  and  patient  effort. 
But,  above  all,  it  was  the  outcome  of  two  bitter  winters 
and  of  Valley  Forge,  when  the  man  sneered  at  in  those 
days  as  "  Fabius "  not  only  kept  "  life  and  soul"  in  his 
army,  but  in  the  American  Revolution,  which  that  army 
represented  when  it  faced  alone  the  power  of  England. 


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